


Books&Bakes

by guilt_is_for_mortals



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dancing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Jon has a secret sweet tooth, Jon owns a bookstore, Lesbian Weddings, M/M, Martin has a not so secret love for poetry, Martin owns a bakery, Peter is a Little Shit, Pining, Slow Burn, Weddings, dance lessons, mututal pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21915904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guilt_is_for_mortals/pseuds/guilt_is_for_mortals
Summary: The empty store across the street is not empty anymore.There are plants and fairy lights and it looks terribly light and inviting.It also smells of strawberry scones and Jon might be a bit lost.
Relationships: (Background) Sasha James/Michael, (Background) Tim Stoker/Mike Crew, (past) Martin Blackwood/Peter Lucas, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 157
Kudos: 367





	1. The (not so empty store) across the street

**Author's Note:**

> Me, trying to do something multichaptered?  
> It is more likely than you think!
> 
> Welcome to the first chapter of Books&Bakes.  
> I truly hope you will like it.

The empty store across the street is not empty anymore. When Jon Sims had left his bookstore last Friday night, it had still been as lonely and dark as it had been since he took over his shop, two years ago. Old posters, faded from time, advertising long forgotten concerts or looking for pets that still might not be found. Now, so very ill fitting for the grey February morning, the papers were gone and replaced by fairy lights and plants in colorful pots. A bright and alien sight in the cobbled London side street full of traditional shops with iron signs and dark wooden doors. The new shops door had been painted light blue. A chalkboard announced the upcoming opening of **Blackwood Bakery** .  
  
Cold fingers closed around the iron key he had been searching inside his coat pockets.   
“There you are.” The squeaking of the door, so familiar to him, as he slowly pushed it open. Who needed a shop bell when you had a door like that? He turned on the lights, taking in the well-known sight of dozens and dozens of books in front of him. The scent of paper and ink and leather. **The Archive** was known for its quiet atmosphere, the comfortable leather armchairs and for the fact that you could browse it’s books in peace without the owner constantly asking you what you were looking for. Jon's customers usually knew what they were looking for anyways and often just came here to shut themselves off from the too noisy and hectic outside world.  
  
From behind his desk at the far end of the store, slightly obscured by bookshelves, he could watch the world outside just floating by. Faceless passengers, each of them carrying a story Jon would never know, never read about. Today, one of them was not faceless. It was a slow morning and Jon had with mild interest watched the tall, broad man carry box after box after box from a yellow van into the no longer empty store.   
A bakery. Jon had to admit, there were no restaurants or coffee shops in his street, a tailor, some lawyers, an antiques dealer, but no bakery. He was not sure why it somewhat bothered him. Well, he had never liked change, for once, and maybe it would not bother him so much if it wasn’t for the pastel colors and lights and the blue door.   
  
Lost in thoughts he had let his tea over steep and not even adding a third spoon of sugar helped to fight the bitter taste on his tongue. A customer pressed open the door and started roaming the store but left again after a few minutes, buying nothing. That happened, quite often even, and Jon was used to it. He offered mostly used books, books about niche themes, old, almost antique ones. No pastel covered romance novels, not the newest thrillers or biographies. His store was small and angled and full of little treasures not everyone could value. He probably would have starved or gone bankrupt long ago, if the store was his only way of income. But with the books he wrote for Bouchard & Lucas, a paranormal science publishing house, it was enough to get by just fine. He wasn’t one who needed much money, free time or holidays. He kept the shop, he wrote when there was time and once a week he was pestered into going out to eat or to a pub with his few friends.   
  
His ex-girlfriend Georgie, still his best friend after all, had initiated the whole weekly tradition, after Jon had moved out of their shared flat. They had been broken up for a year already, but they were comfortable living together, as there was no real fighting in their relationship drifting apart. It was more a matter of loving another deeply, but not actually in a romantic way, as they both came to understand. But then Georgie had found Melanie, and tough Jon wanted Georgie to find all the happiness she deserved, he was not particularly fond of Melanie. So he moved into the tiny apartment right above the store and promised Georgie that they still would see each other at least once a week. That was how things were going. Mondays through Fridays he would be at The Archive, writing in the evening. Friday nights were for friends, for meeting Georgie and Melanie, sometimes Tim and Sasha joined along. The weekend was his own… mostly to write or sometimes just read in peace. Week for week, a beautifully easy routine.   
  
A routine that was now perfectly disturbed by a chalkboard sign, little tables, chairs and the broad man with ginger hair, wearing sweatpants and a stain covered shirt as he painted the shop. Jon watched him all week, whenever his time allowed it and the store was empty. Watched as the counter was brought, as the new owner painted and decorated and put up even more fairy lights. He did it all on his own, nobody else showing up to help, at least not that Jon was aware off. They never crosses paths that week and they never spoke, Jon opened The Archive quite late and every day the other man was already there, working peacefully on creating this bakery. Jon had decided to dislike the not even open store already, purely based on that it disrupted his well loved routine.   
  
Friday night Jon found himself sitting in an old oakwood furnished pub with his friends. He prefered the nights when they stayed in, watching documentaries, cooking, destroying each other in Mario Kart. But his friends, often times much more extroverted than he was, insisted on going out somewhere to eat or drink at least once a month. Georgie had once told him that his life was supposed to consist of more than switching between his apartment, her apartment and his shop. Jon was not sure why there was supposed to be more, as he was perfectly content with this three places. But as he sat her pint, he felt himself relax maybe a little bit.   
“Jon, you have been awfully quiet all night - I mean, even more quiet than usual.” Georgie looked at him with a mixture of amusement and worry.   
“Is everything alright?”  
  
“I… there… someone moved into the empty shop across the street from The Archive?” Jon begins to explain. Tims eyes light up as he chimes in.   
“Oh, I’ve seen it passing by on the way to work, a bakery, right? Finally a place to get lunch in our street…” Tim worked as a kind of detective for a bunch of lawyers whose law office was a side street away from Jons shop. They had met half a year ago, when a very angry Tim had shown up in the bookstore and ranted for ten minutes about how he would not continue to work for someone who sent him to a creepy puppet maker. He would not go there again, he would never talk to that person again, and if they ever were to send him there again, he would take an axe or just burn it all down. Jon had let him vent, standing there very awkwardly, and finally offered him a strong cup of tea. Somehow they had become friends after that. Venting to a complete stranger with no people skills could do that, apparently.  
  
“Yes, but… it is so very… bright,” Jon tries to get his feelings about the new shop across.   
“It is… there are little chairs and tables with succulents and potted plants and… _fairy lights.”_ His friends look at him confused, as if they were still trying to find out how this would be a problem.   
“It just… it doesn’t fit, don’t you think? It is… there will be people coming and…”   
Melanie began to giggle and her and Georgie shared a look.   
“Jon, we know you don’t like change, but…”   
“This has nothing to do with me not liking… well, okay, maybe a little, but…”  
  
“Just… hey, they are going to open on Monday, right?” Tim interrupted, placing a warm hand on Jons slim shoulder with a big smile. “How about on Monday morning the both of us just walk in there, say hello and try some nice cake...”   
Jon makes a very displeased face, as if Tim had suggested him trying to seduce his boss Elias or something.   
“... and you will see how this is not a bad thing at all. He is your new… store neighbour. Maybe you will even like him.”   
Jon let out a big sigh, but nods in the end, taking a long sip of his drink before answering.   
“Fine. I highly doubt that I will like that… Blackwood person. But fine.”


	2. Strawberry Scones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon is a feral man with social anxiety.  
> Martin knows that the way to a mans heart is through his stomach.   
> Tim has way too much fun with it all.

Normally Jon did not dislike Mondays. Weekends were nice, but he spent them sitting at the desk in his little flat, alternating between writing, staring out the window lost in thought, and making more tea. This particular weekend had also included a phone call from Elias, talking about his deadline and how his new manuscript was soon due. Jon had tried to tell his boss that it was not as if information was just easily attainable on the internet and he simply was to lazy to write it down. That it took quite some research and time. That had been how he met Sasha, who worked for the antiques dealer in his street. She was very good at finding and hunting down rare pieces and had not just once helped him find books or artifacts he himself would never have gotten his hands on. But Elias was a businessman and the deadline was set.   
  
This Monday morning however he had woken up with a rather strange feeling of not wanting to get out of bed at all. It took him a moment, staring at the raindrops running slowly down his bedroom window, to remember what made this Monday so much more dreadful than most others. Looking at his phone to switch off the alarm he noticed a message from Tim - who had been up at an ungodly time, probably to go to the gym before work - remembering him that they would meet at the Blackwood Bakery to say hi to the owner. With a sigh, Jon burrowed his head back deep into his cushions and pulled his blanket around himself again. If he would oversleep he would be late, but he also would not have to meet this new… neighbour.   
  
He did get up tough, of course he did, he was a reasonable adult man and he would not be late for work if he could help it. A shower and a strong cup of tea later he went down the narrow flight of stairs, opening a side gate out onto the street. Tim already stood there, waiting for him and probably wanting to make sure that Jon not just went to open The Archive without going through with the plan. Tim knew him too well.    
“Good Morning,” he greeted and Jon asked himself how anybody could be so….  _ awake  _ so early on such a grey and rainy morning. He just let out a small sigh and nodded.   
“Let’s get on with this then? Don’t want to get all wet…”    
“Sure thing.” They walk over to the Bakery, the chalkboard sign now saying “Open” in fancy handwriting, fairy lights and all too bright and too happy.  
  
“Ahh, do you smell that, Jon? That smells like…”   
“Strawberry scones, fresh out of the oven.”   
Tim had opened the door into the bakery and the ginger haired man smiled at them from behind the counter. From up close now he was even taller and broader than Jon had thought. He had strong shoulders and arms and where his pale skin was showing, it revealed the man to be covered in uncountable amounts of freckles. He was also wearing a pale blue apron with a print of tiny white flowers.    
The shop itself was very pretty. Not that Jon would ever admit that to anyone. Lights, plants and soft looking cushions on wooden chairs made it look like a place one could sit down and just relax, soft music playing in the background, the wonderful smell of sweet pastries and fresh bread filling the air.   
  
“Good morning and welcome to Blackwoods Bakery. I am Martin, it is very nice to meet you.”   
Even his voice was soft and really nice. It was all too soft and too nice and it was slightly itching Jons skin. Tim, who was a lot better than him in this situations, took the word.    
“Morning, nice to meet you Martin, I am Tim, this is Jon… we both work in this street and saw that you have opened and just wanted to come in and say hi.” He offers a big grin and a hand and Martin shakes his hand while returning the smile.   
“That is really nice of you, I have moved in just about a week ago and I haven’t met… anyone, really.” He looks at Jon now, who still had not spoken a word. He just stood there, looking really uncomfortable, wishing he could literally be anywhere else.  
“You are the owner of the bookstore across the street, right? The Archive? Nice name for a bookstore.”   
“I… ah, yes, I am the owner… It is… it is nice to meet you. Martin.”  
  
Jon had glanced up at Martin for just a moment and their eyes met. Martins eyes were like those you read about in books, when people compared their colour to wild waters and spoke about sinking deeply into them. It was a long moment, one that only ended when Tim cleared his throat and Jon quickly turned his gaze back down onto the ground, or maybe onto the baked goods behind the counter. Just not back up to Martin. Had he looked at Martin, Jon would have noticed that the bakers cheeks had turned a slight pink and that he seemed just as awkward with the situation as Jon did.   
  
“So… would you two like to take some of the scones? As a gift, of course, in hope of good… neighbourship.” Martin busied himself to pack up two strawberry scones for each of his new acquaintances and handed the bags over the counter with a smile.    
“Here you go… I soon plan to also have coffee on the menu, the machine is just having some delivery problems…”   
“Sounds perfect, I am sure we’ll be regulars in here soon, right Jon?” Tim grins and Jon just nods again, still not daring to look up at Martins face.    
“We gotta go now, see you soon, Martin!”    
As soon as they were outside, Tim softly boxed Jon in the shoulder in a friendly manor.    
“See, Martin seems to be a decent enough fellow…”   
“He… is okay, I guess.” Jon looks up at Tim, a resigned look on his tired face. “Don’t you have to be at work?”   
“Sure thing… on my way already. See you Friday, at the latest!” With that he disappeared into a side street and Jon, finally alone again, went to open his store.   
  
He only realized how much his heart had been pounding once he was inside his familiar environment, feeling much more secure all at once. Books. Tea. Silence. He took a deep breath to steady himself and went into the small back room to make himself a cup of tea, placing the bag with the scones onto his desk. Back here, not all that overwhelmed, they did actually smell fantastic. When had been the last time he had actually eaten more than a quick peanut butter sandwich? Most weekends he just kept himself going with sugary tea.  
  
Jon tried to reflect about his feelings. He tried to come to the conclusion that the bakery and Martin were nice. He tried to convince himself that not all change was bad and that he had had similar feelings upon meeting Sasha or Tim for the first time. It just was not that easy for him. It was much easier reading or thinking about what he was trying to say than to actually say it. He tried to not think too much about how his mind had betrayed him, thinking of Martin Blackwoods eyes as if he was the author of a soppy romance novel.   
  
The tea was fine this time, Jon remembering to take the leaves out only a little to late, lost in his thoughts. He knew that he had been awkward. It was not like he did not know that he was strange and overwhelmed in such social situations, which was why he avoided them. It was like his friends just did not want to understand. It was better for him to be on his own, not made to be around people much. He absentmindedly broke a piece of the scone off with his fingers and put it in his mouth, still scolding himself about having been so embarrassing. He was not not even able to just greet his new neighbour? It was that moment that he stopped in all his thoughts and closed his eyes. The scone was perfect. Crumbly and sweet and the strawberry came through just fine…   
  
When he opened his eyes again he felt like he could see Martin watching him from across the street. He not yet thought about that. If he had been able to observe everything Martin had been doing last week, what stopped Martin from just as easily looking into the store to see what Jon was doing. Panic welled up in his chest, hot like fresh tea and flooding through him.  _ Breathe. Just breathe,  _ he tried to remind himself.  _ It is not that bad. Martin is not watching me. Nobody is watching me. _ But the feeling did not go away all that easily. It would take some time to get used to this. Jon did finish the scones tough. They were perfect after all. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments, I am so glad you like this story.  
> Also Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating and Happy Holidays to the rest of you!

"So... do you have something philosophically sophisticated here, something to impress a date who happens to study philosophy?"  
Jon, who had not been paying much attention to the customer browsing through the shelves looked up from his desk with confusion.   
“Excuse me, what?” He had been lost in thought about his book and had not even had his first full cup of tea this morning. He was basically still asleep.   
“Ah… I am searching for a philosophy book… best a not too thick one, so that I can read it until tomorrow to impress my date,” the man standing in front of him repeated, slightly annoyed.    
“Oh…” Jon frowned. “I surely do have philosophy books around here, but most of them are not a one or two days read…” He stood up to look around, pulling three books out of the shelves. “Descartes, Plato, Penrose… not… I am not sure if there are any… maybe… these would be the best to start, I think.” He had been about to just tell the man to look up simple philosophy on the internet and study some wikipedia articles. But on the other hand he really had to sell some books. The customer finally picked two of them, paid and left. Strange person. Jon wondered why anyone would try to get into philosophy if they weren’t actually interested… just for a date. Not that he was the most experienced with that, but… it just seemed wrong to pretend.  
  
The rest of the day went by quiet and peaceful. Two of his regulars stopped buy, each taking home a few books, one staying in The Archive for her lunch break to escape going out to eat with her colleagues. Jon did not even know the woman's name, but she had one day come in and asked if it would just be okay to stay here and read for an hour. Knowing the feeling of being dragged off to lunch with Sasha and Tim he had outright agreed. She came in about once a week, offered a smile as a hello and then just sunk into one of the leather armchairs after picking a book. Tim had once suggested that she might be coming in to try and flirt with Jon, which was simply just absurd. He was hardly the type of person anyone would want to flirt with and also not everything in life had to be about flirting and relationships. Maybe that was how Tims brain worked, though. Maybe that was why he was so much better than Jon at all the whole…  _ social thing _ .   
  
There was just about an hour of work left as the door swung open again. “I’ll be right there,” Jon called out from the back room, where he was about to make himself some more tea. He had slept quite unwell last night, struggling to fall asleep, turning from one side to the other. Thinking about how awkward he must have been at the bakery. How embarrassing it was that he just could not… be a normal human being in social situations? What had he said to Martin? He replayed the scene in his head again and again and he felt as if it got worse every time. He must have seemed like a mad man. Hopefully he would just have to never speak to the baker again.   
  
Jon went back out into the front of the store and he almost dropped his cup, hot tea spilling over his hands, making him hiss and put it down onto the desk too fast. Martin just stood there in the room, looking a bit lost in his apron, a bit of flour in his hair and a brown paper bag in his hands. When he saw Jon pouring the tea over himself, he quickly tossed the bag onto the desk, pulled a fresh handkerchief from his pocket and reached for Jon's hands to help to dry them carefully.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, Jon," Martin apologized, his cheeks turning red, looking terribly embarrassed. Jon stared at his slightly burned, aching hands which, enclosed by Martin's large ones, looked even more delicate than usual. Girl hands, he had often been mocked in the past. To banish that thought from his brain, he looked up at Martin to tell him that everything was all right and made the mistake of looking him straight in the eye. The baker looked so worried, as if he really was to blame for Jon being jumpy and just having thought about him...  
"It... it's all right." He practically tore his hands out of Martin's and now the cheeks of both men were tomato red and the embarrassment felt so thick you could try and cut it with a knife. Jon stared at his desk and Martin stared at a shelf of books.  
  
"Oh, good, yes, that's... that's good." Martin recovered a little faster than Jon and a smile played around his lips.  
"I... I just wanted to bring you this..." He pointed to the brown bag on the desk. "They're apple turnovers that are left over today... tomorrow they won't be good anymore and I thought... I thought you might like to have them."  
Jon looked up at him again, careful not to look into Martins worried blue eyes again.. Better.  
"This is... this..." He cleared his throat, giving himself a moment to try and process all that was happening just now. "This is very... how much do I owe you for...?"  
  
"Oh, no, no, these are on the house, like I said, I can't sell them tomorrow, and... and I'm gonna have to get used to how much of everything I have to bake and what's too much and how many customers come in, so..." Martin spoke a little too quickly and seemed just as embarrassed as Jon himself.  
"Oh… then, um... I... thank you."  
"Sure." They just stood there for a moment, both still carefully trying to not look at each other to directly. Jon somewhat hoped for a hole in the ground to appear and just swallow him up.   
"Ah, I... I should... I should... I have to..." He made an indeterminate hand gesture in direction of his desk. He was a writer, for Christs sake, how could it be that in front of this baker he turned into a stuttering and inarticulate mess?  
"Yes, I... I should also... over to the store..."  
Martin was already at the door when he turned around one last time and smiled at Jon who was about to mop up the spilled tea.  
"I... would it be all right, if tomorrow... I could bring you something sweet tomorrow, too?" Jon felt his cheeks still glowing and hoped Martin just didn't see it too clearly. He nodded slowly.  
"Yes, that... that would be... nice, Martin. The… the scones were very good, by the way."

\--

Martin returns the next day, this time with chocolate croissants. It is much less awkward than the day before, no spilling tea, no touching hand. Jon is very glad about this particular fact, as he had another almost sleepless night, tearing himself up about how he could just not be a normal human being and having normal human conversations. It always got embarrassing for him and everyone else. He had contemplated calling Georgie or maybe Tim over the situation and get all off it of his chest, but he did not want to disturb them. Wednesday was Georgies and Melanie's date night, and Tim… well, Tim would probably be elated by the fact that someone held Jons hands, even if it was just… whatever that had been. It also had been 3 am in the morning and so Jon just stayed in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to fight the feeling of panic welling up, never really overcoming him, just being there, bubbling in his chest to keep him from sleeping, sending more and more embarrassing moments up to his brain. Never just enough…   
  
“You look tired, are you okay, Jon?” Martin had not left and Jon had been staring at the bag in front of him lost in thoughts for… how long again?   
“Oh, I… yes, a bit tired, I think I’m gonna close the store a bit earlier today… thank you, Martin.”   
“Take care, Jon.”  
  
That very Thursday night, Jon realized that he probably had new neighbors. It had  _ almost  _ been a cosy evening. Chocolate Croissants for dinner, coupled with a documentary on TV and a long, hot shower. The fact that the day had passend without absolute embarrassment on his part would perhaps even ensure that he could sleep through the night. Or at least fall asleep to begin with. Jon went to bed early, exhausted from the sleepless days before when he heard it, the pounding of fists against a wooden door. At first he thought it was the one of his own apartment, but then he realized that it had to be the door next to his, the noise was too muffled.   
  
He didn't understand clearly what the man - it had to be a man, judging by the voice - shouted against the door, but finally the clanging of a chain was heard and a key was turned. The building was old and the walls rather thin. Jon had been so happy when the old neighbours - a young, very much in love couple - had moved out. So now there was someone new, a person he had just not met yet. And another someone was obviously quite angry with the new neighbor.  
" _... never called back... hiding here from me... missing you... _ " Jon could only understand bits and pieces of what was said and none of this was really any of his business…  
He heard something break and a suppressed scream. Then silence. An uneasy feeling spread through him, knotted his insides and concern started filling him. He lay in the darkness and listened until he heard someone say " _... see you again soon _ ". Finally the banging of the apartment door. Silent sobbing from inside the other apartment.   
  
It was not easy for Jon to fall asleep that night.  
Martin didn't come by the next day to bring something sweet to Jon.    
The bad feeling in his stomach didn't want to leave him all day.


	4. Weddings & Woeful nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get rather angsty this time, but worry not - the next chapter will be quite fluffy!
> 
> A BIG thank you goes out to the lovely Zykaben who was the beta for this chapter!

Georgie ran past a startled Tim, tripping over The Admiral, who had been curling around Sasha's feet purring happily.  
“Watch out, the pasta is gonna cook over…” Melanie managed to catch her girlfriend just in time as she fell over.   
“Been together for almost two years and you’re still falling for me, huh?” Georgie rolled her eyes at this pun, but still pressed a firm kiss against Melanie’s lips before hurrying to save the pasta on the stove.   
They all had decided to stay in and cook together tonight. None of them really felt like going out. Jon especially had thought about just cancelling after a whole day of worrying about the night before. He should have done something, right? He should have walked over to find out what was going on and help the person who had been crying. But he had not. He had done nothing and he had to live with that now. And then not even Martin had shown up. Jon had decided that this particular fact was bothering him because he really could have used something sweet to  _ eat his feelings _ , as Georgie would say.   
  
“Tim, we do have another chair…” Melanie frowned, looking down to Tim, who had crossed his long legs underneath himself, sitting on the carpet at the tiny couch table they had all summoned around.   
“No need for a chair, I am perfectly comfortable down here!”  
Melanie mumbled something containing the words  _ useless  _ and  _ bisexual.   
_ The dinner table was not big enough to fit them all, and so they always just crammed themselves onto the couch - or the floor - plates or take-away containers on their knees or laps. There was a documentary on Scottish Highland Cows running and the friends fell into a comfortable silence, munching and watching the very good cows just being  _ very good _ .   
“Uhhhh, guys, gals, pals… Mel… Mel and I would like to tell you something.” Georgies cheeks had turned slightly pink and Melanie also looked a bit flushed as they all stood up when the evening came to an end. They all were just about to grab their coats.   
“You know… we had our second anniversary this week and… and…”  
“...and I asked Georgie, if she would want to… well, become my wife.”  
  
There was a moment of silence, than there was laughter, joyful congratulations and lots of hugs. Even Melanie and Jon, who were staring each other in the eye for one second before deciding to just don’t care about their  _ hate  _ for each other right now, gave each other a quick hug.   
“So… when? And where? And… are there any details yet?” Sasha asked with a huge grin on her face, very excited and happy for her friends.  
“Ah… this… actually soon… late spring, we don’t want anything to big so we'll just… see when we can manage to get a small venue and all and then… yeah.” Georgie was still blushing, but she also radiated a joy and beauty that Jon had never brought out in her. Melanie was just the right person for her and Jon had never been. He was okay with that fact. He wanted her to be happy, that was all that counted.   
  
But no matter how happy he was for them, now in his bed, a little tipsy after a glass of celebratory champagne they had opened, the strange squirming feeling in his stomach returned. It was hard not to feel a bit melancholic at what Georgie and Melanie had, even when he himself had decided that romance just was not for him. Sometimes he craved a connection like the one they had. Jon also craved a cigarette now, craved the burning in his lung and the strange twirling in his head that too much nicotine gave him. But he had given up smoking over a year ago and he would not fall back into bad habits. He wondered why Martin had not shown up today. Had he already managed to scare the man off? Well, enough very embarrassing things had happened over the course of one single week. Why would someone like Martin come back to him and bring him sweets when he was… he was just not made for people to like him. Most of the times that did not bother him at all. But with Martin… Jon did not know why, but it seemed different somehow.   
  
-  
  
Jon felt like a stalker, rearranging the shelves at the front of his store to get a better look into the bakery on the other side of the street. He just… he really just wanted to see if Martin was alright. The weekend had been strange. Usually they were Jons haven, his time alone to write and bury himself into books, cleaning his apartment a bit. Just himself and his work.   
He really had enough to do. Elias had been quite clear that he wouldn't move the deadline for the book and slowly Jon was running out of time. He would probably have to start writing during the day when nobody was in the store.  
  
But not today, today he would spend reorganizing his shelves to try to get a glimpse of Martin Blackwood. He also had already seen that the baker was there and that the shop was open. But he never seemed to look over and Jon never dared to stare so obviously that he could be noticed.  
  
One man caught his attention when he approached Blackwood Bakery, stopped in front of it for a while and just looked in from the street.  _ Stalker _ , Jon thought to himself, only to remind himself that he was no better. But all he cared about was finding out what was going on! A strange aura emanated from the man. He was a bit older, his beard full and his hair showed first hints of grey (Jon tried not to think about his own hair turning white at the temples at just 29). The visitor also wore a cap like a sailor or an admiral. Strange, but Jon had seen other kinds of hipsters go into Martin's store.  
  
Still, there was something that worried him when this man now entered the otherwise empty shop and approached Martin. Jon had given up his attempt at stealth and stared straight through the window to see how the man greeted Martin, who didn't back off, but didn't... didn't seem enthusiastic either. And then the stranger kissed Martin, on the mouth, while the baker still stood there as if frozen into a pillar of salt. Jon watched as the visitor slowly detached himself from Martin and stroked his cheek. He said something, Martin nodded. Jon couldn't quite make it out over the distance and two panes of glass, but Martin seemed to be just so... empty.  
  
The stranger had finally left and Martin had disappeared. Jon had been staring after the leaving man. Martin's... boyfriend? That strange man who made Jon feel so uncomfortable. Who had kissed Martin, who was no longer in his shop when Jon turned his attention back towards the bakery. The sign on the door had been turned around and showed "closed".  
  
Jon was completely useless for the rest of the day. He closed The Archive early and decided to distract himself by writing his book.  _ Martin, the man kissing him. Had Martin kissed back? He had hardly moved, he had just stood there... _ and Jon's insides were in knots at the thought. He stared at the flashing cursor in front of him for half an hour, on the otherwise blank page, mocking him. He made himself a cup of tea and tried again. His thoughts drifted away. To the stranger. To Martin. Always to Martin. Considering that Jon had only embarrassed himself in the presence of the baker and was still not sure if he actually liked him, he thought way too much about him.  
  
That night the knocking also returned. The man did not shout this time, he was let in. The chain, the key.  
Jon had already spent the whole day trying to watch other people and now he didn't feel as strange as he should when he moved a little closer to the wall to try to hear what happened in the other apartment.  
_ "...good to see you today..."  
_ _ "Please… Peter."  
_ _ "... just got here..."  
_ This time he understood the voices better than last time - maybe the people were in another room, closer to his? Jon should really feel bad about lying there listening to his new neighbors. But all guilt vanished when the voices raised again, and this time he realized that he recognized one of them.  
_ "Please... I just want to... live my own life... coming back..."  
_ __ "Oh, Martin... can't do without me… hidden much better… belong to me and nobody else..."  
  
The blood in Jon's ears rushed at a volume that drowned out the rest of the conversation. So Martin was his new neighbor not only in terms of business. He lived in the apartment next door. He had nightly visits from a stranger. It was him who had been sobbing on Thursday night. The man... the man at the bakery was probably his boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend? They had kissed. And Martin let him into the apartment. They hadn't argued this night. And yet it didn't sound... ...not exactly lovey-dovey. He wasn't sure what else happened that night or whether the man left Martin's apartment or not. His thoughts raced in his head, completely captivating him as he tried to make sense of what was going on.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We start out a littly angsty, but be prepared for fluff!

Martin was in The Archive.  
  
Which was very good, because all weekend Jon had carried an underlying worry within him. He had not been completely sure if it was Martin who caused the twisty feeling in his stomach and made him feel all anxious. He should have been concentrating on writing, which he did, to try and get his mind to calm down. It had not helped much. Now that Martin was here and he was safe, Jons worry faded for a moment.  
  
It came back in full force when Jon noticed the bruise on Martin's jaw. The baker stood in front of him, the always so honest smile rather a spoiled grimace. His cheerful tone seemed more forced than genuine. He had brought Jon some pastries again, they smelled as good as ever. But the longer Jon looked at Martin, the more the feeling burning in his insides grew worse. Martin had tried to cover the bruise with makeup, but it wasn't quite enough. It was still well visible, and Jon stood up, too quick and jerkily, causing Martin to stumble a few steps back, fear rising in his eyes.  
  
“Who…?!” Jon started but then stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself down and moderate his tone. He didn't want to scare Martin, not any more than he already had. Martin, who was so much bigger and stronger than Jon, who could probably just lift him up and throw him over his shoulder if he wanted to, was afraid of him. It was a terrible feeling and Jon hated himself for not being able to find the right words even now, in this situation.  
“Who... Martin, who did this to you?” Jons voice was softer now. He was trying so hard to be gentle and not as harsh as he tended to be. He just wanted to understand, because he simply, clearly couldn’t understand.   
“Martin, who hurt you?”  
  
For a moment, Martin looked like a deer caught in headlights. Then Jon watched him shut down and his face hardened, his eyes cold and pale as the winter sea.    
“Nobody hurt me, Jon.” Martins voice sounds wrong.    
“I just fell and managed to catch the counter with my chin. I’ll be fine.”   
Jon opened his mouth to object, to tell Martin that he had  _ heard _ , but Martin did not let him speak.   
“I have to get back to the shop now, Jon. Goodbye.”   
And he just turned around and left. Jon was sitting there dumbstruck, staring at Martins back as he closed the door behind him, walking over to the bakery without looking back once.   
“Martin…” he whispered, way too late now of course.   
  
How could he have messed up this badly? Why had he not been more cautious? Why had he just blurt things out instead of thinking them through first? Why did he care this much about Martin Blackwood and what he thought of him?   
Would he have cared that much if it was not Martin? God, he was a terrible person just thinking that. This was simply him being concerned about his neighbour. Nothing weird about that. He  _ should  _ be concerned because something clearly was going very wrong here.  Jon decided he would go and check on Martin tonight before he could stop himself from doing so. It was his duty as good neighbor, nothing more and nothing less.  
  
The plan was simple enough. Martin had once mentioned in passing that he liked poetry, and Jon had some wonderful poetry collections in his shop. He would go to Martin's door, knock, and apologize to him for his insensitivity earlier. He would then give him the book and be able to take a quick look around the apartment to see if anyone was there and if Martin was all right. Easy enough, right? Well, it wasn't quite that easy. Jon stood in the dark hallway outside Martin's door and only had to raise his hand to knock. Should he really? Of course, he had to see if Martin... ...was fine. Or at least okay. Should he change into something else? He had swapped his shirt for a sweater, but else still wore his work clothes. In the end, nothing of that mattered.  
  
_ "You're here to find out if your neighbor is okay. Your neighbor who stormed out of your store today. Your neighbor you heard crying the other night..." _ He mumbled to himself, and a few more minutes went by while he was standing outside a door like an idiot. His hands, still clutching the poetry book, grew cold. With a deep sigh he raised his hand and finally knocked. It was this moment in which Jon realized who had knocked on this door last and that Martin must now think that the strange man was back. How could he have messed up again? Surely Martin would simply just not…. he was about to panic when the door opened.  
Only a crack, wide enough for him to look outside, Martin held the chain tightly closed.  
  
"Oh... Jon. Please go... Wait, how… how did you know... where I live?"  
Martin closed the door in front of Jons nose, but it only took a few seconds, the chain came loose, and a surprised and slightly angry looking Martin appeared in the doorway.  
"I... well… yeah..." Jon's hands clasped the book so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He had practiced what he was going to say over and over again. Now his brain blanked.  
"I... I am your neighbor," he finally brought out. "I... that's how I know... I have... the walls are... very thin." He looked a little helpless towards Martin, who stared at him with crossed arms and narrowed eyebrows and remained silent. If he realized what Jon was trying to say, he did not show it.   
  
"I... I remembered that..." He reached out his hands with the poetry collection and held it out to Martin like a shield to save himself from the mans dark look. "You like poetry, and I thought..." Nothing changed in Martin's cold face. Jon's heart contracted. His hands became sweaty.  
"l, um... it was... I felt like a... acted like an idiot, I was being an idiot, and... it's... a peace offering." Martin reluctantly accepted the present. It was an old book, bound in real leather, with fine embossing and illustrations on the well preserved pages. His expression softened a little as his fingers gently stroked the cover.  
"Oh."  
For a moment, Martin looked directly at Jon. Jon stared at a very interesting spot on Martin's front door when he finally brought the words out.   
“I am… sorry for how I behaved earlier. I shouldn’t have… done that.”   
  
"Uh.... you should… Come... come in. It's bloody cold out here." Still no smile, but it was more than Jon had hoped for. Now he stood a little lost in Martin's flat.  
"Tea?" Martin asked and Jon just nodded silently, watching Martin disappear into the tiny kitchen. The apartment had the same layout as his, it was just as sparsely furnished, but Martin had decorated with a string of lights and a few plants standing here and there.  
"So..." Martin returned with tea and a scowl on his face.  
"I feel... I am... I accept your apology, Jon." He looked Jon straight in the eye now, and this time Jon couldn't look away. Martin still looked angry but there was something other in his eyes.  
"I... I'm sorry, too, for being so... so... I... I just don't know... Jon, I'm not sure if I can talk to you about this."  
"Okay. You don’t have to." Jon replied. "That's okay, Martin... I just... I was just worried. I wanted to... I just wanted to know if you were okay."  
  
Martin took a sip of still way too hot tea to give himself a moment to think.  
"I am... I'm, um... I'm okay? Not, um... good, not great, not... but, uh...  _ okay _ ."  
A tiny smile on his lips, mixed with uncertainty now.   
"Are you sure you want to give me this book as a gift? It's, um... It's beautiful. I..."  
"Please accept it." Jon wasn't sure if he could handle the situation of having to take back a gift that was offered. He knew it was expensive but it was the one coming to his mind first when he thought about a book for Martin. The one that fit best.  
"I... I want you to have it."  
Martin looks like he's going to argue, but he's not. That tiny smile again.  
"Thanks, Jon. For the book and... for being worried about me. It is nice to know that... someone cares."  
  
They sat down together on the couch, quiet for a while, drinking their tea. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Martin carefully opened the book and flipped through the pages. This time a real smile played around his lips. "It smells good..." He stuck his nose into the book and breathed deeply in and out.  
Jon looked at him with fascination and had a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue, but then he just smiled and nodded.  
"A customer once said she often comes to The Archive because the smell soothes her. She just sits down and... breathes."  
"Sounds like I would get along with her well."  
  
They smiled at each other and with a deep sigh Martin leaned back into the cushions.  
"I... listen, Jon, this thing... it's a long story. A story for... not for tonight. I thought I got away from a lot of things when I moved here, and it turns out I didn't."  
He looked at Jon, expecting him to say something, but Jon just wanted him to keep talking. He wanted to learn as much as he could to make sense of it all.  
"I... I'll handle it. It's, uh... it's okay, Jon, I'll be fine. I just need to... do this myself, okay?"  
"Of course, Martin. Like I said... I just wanted to know if you were okay."  
  
It had to be the longest conversation they ever had. Here, on Martin's sofa, his eyes glued firmly on his teacup, he could almost talk to him without getting stuck in his words and acting like the biggest idiot. He had apologised. Martin had accepted. The world had not ended and he had not experienced a panic attack. Tim and Georgie would be so proud of him.  
  
“There are a few poems in here I think you might enjoy.” Jon had reached out for the book and flipped through the pages to search for a specific one he had in mind.   
“Here, that is one of them…” Jon cleared his throat and then read the poem out loud for Martin. He was not exactly sure why he was doing that. It should have been really awkward, but Martin seemed to lose a bit of tension, closing his eyes, listening.    
“I really like your voice,” Martin admitted when Jon had finished, his cheeks turned red but his eyes still closed. Jon did not know how to respond. There was a moment of silence, then, when he found another good poem, he started to read again.   
  
At some point Martin had fallen asleep on the couch. Nights of fighting and crying must have taken their toll on him. Jon watched him for a moment, softly closing the book and placing it back on the coffee table. Should he wake Martin, or let him sleep? He decided to let him rest, grabbing a blanket from the couch and wrapping it around Martin as best as he could. Martin shuffled a bit in his sleep, sliding down to actually lie on the couch and hid his face in the pillow. Jon smiled, resisting the strange urge to pet Martins hair and see how soft it was. He left, feeling much lighter than all of last week. There was still a lot going on and he was determined to help Martin as best as he could. He finally understood a little better.   
  
And at least for tonight, Martin was okay.


	6. Jon has a Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a Feeling. Tim tries to help with that.
> 
> No Angst. All the Fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge THANK YOU to Lee (LeanMeanSaltineMachine) for beta reading this chapter!
> 
> This chapter features fanart from the wonderful and lovely Salsa!

“Good Morning, what can I d-”  
The words got stuck in Martins mouth as he turned around to see Jon standing in his bakery. Jon was not entirely sure why he had decided to come over, but after reading Martin to sleep last night he did not feel quite as awkward as he thought he would. It would probably be more awkward if he started to avoid Martin now.   
  
“Good Morning, Martin.”  
Seeing Martin smile again had been worth the sleepless night. Jon had only just closed his apartment door behind himself when he had started to overthink everything that had happened. The reading, Martin falling asleep. Him not waking Martin up. Their apologies. Martin being definitely _not_ okay and Jon being too socially inept to ask the right questions and bring Martin to tell him about it.  
  
“Good Morning, Jon.” He walked over to the counter and for a long moment they just stood there, looking at each other, both their cheeks turning slightly pink. Jon had not thought about this as far as what he was actually going to say.  
“I… uhh… I hope your back doesn't hurt too much… after… sleeping on the couch,” he says in the very same moment Martin starts with: “Thanks for letting me sleep and the blanket and all…”  
Another moment of awkward silence, then they both started to laugh. It was so nice to hear Martin laugh, after his cold and distant behaviour the days prior.   
  
“Thank you for stopping by yesterday, Jon.” Martin finally broke the silence.   
“How is it you are up so early, I never see you around before ten.”   
Jon sighed deeply. He really wished he was still in bed. This was definitely not his time of day.  
“Ah, I… have a ton of work to do today, that is why I am here…” He had found the perfect reason why he was here, and Martin never needed to know he just now thought of it. Wonderful!  
“I am not exactly fond of coffee, but I had hoped… I had hoped that you would… you talked about a coffee machine? And I need something to keep me… _awake_.”  
  
Martin smiles at Jon in that way again that makes Jon feel strangely warm inside.  
“So you need a really strong coffee that doesn’t taste like coffee?”   
“That sums it up, I think.”  
“Sure, I’ll work some magic and have something ready soon! You’re just in time, I’ve got a meeting in half an hour, this lovely girl couple wants me to make a cake for their wedding.”  
It takes Jon a few seconds to realize why this rings a bell in his head and then has to suppress another very deep sigh.   
“One of them is a ray of sunshine, the other is the embodiment of everything that annoys me on earth?”  
“I get a vague feeling you know them?” Whatever Martin was doing with this coffee machine, to Jon it looked more like science than simply making a caffeinated drink.  
“Yeah, it’s my ex-girlfriend and her.. well, her fiancée.”  
Martin turns around to stare at Jon with a very strange look on his face.   
“Y-Your… ex-girlfriend? Are… are you…”  
“Oh, don’t worry, it has been years since we split up, she is still my best friend, there are no hard feelings there. I am happy for them and all, you know, Melanie is just… well, Melanie.”  
Martin still looked as if something was bothering him, but Jon did not know how to ask. He did not want to mess up again, now that they were actually talking. Like normal people did.   
  
Finally, Martin presented Jon with a large, sunny yellow ceramic mug filled with something vaguely smelling like coffee.  
"It is... extremely sweet, I think, but it contains a triple espresso, so... I think it should keep you awake pretty good?"  
The look on Martin's face had changed back into a smile and Jon was happy about it. He was probably just nervous about meeting Melanie and Georgie. Of course it was Martin who was going to make their wedding cake. After he and Tim had mentioned Martin occasionally, the two of them had been dying to meet him. And Jon was happy for Martin, who would certainly make a wonderful, slightly too kitschy wedding cake. It was a big project and after tasting Martin's delicacies almost every day, he had no doubt that the cake would turn out fantastic.  
  
"You can just... bring the cup back to me soon. I don't like using these disposable cups, so... so... yeah."  
Jon nodded, realising he'd just stared at Martin without saying anything.  
"Oh, yes, thank you so much, Martin... I... the cup has a lovely colour... I'm sure that I'll be able to... work with it, yes."  
He felt his cheeks begin to glow and clasped the cup a little tighter.  
"Well, I really should... get back to work... Elias is breathing down my neck with the book... I'll see you... good luck with your appointment!"  
With that, Jon fled the store as fast as he could without spilling his precious special coffee.  
  
Jon still wasn't sure if he really liked coffee, but the drink was very sweet, tasted like caramel and butterscotch and after he had managed to start writing, he wrote for hour after hour without really taking a break unless a customer tore him from his concentration.  
He had indeed made good progress and considered the day and the coffee experiment a success. He would thank Martin in the morning and get himself another coffee like this.  
  
The ringing of his cell phone made him almost jump in his chair. He usually only received text messages and had them turned off silent. Who the hell decided to call him?  
"Hey, Jon, I see you're still sitting in the store... it's past 9:00 pm?" Jon looked up and around, but he couldn't see Tim outside the store.  
"Tim, where..."  
"I just walked by outside, and I'm about to get some Chinese food. I'll take double the amount and be right over."  
"Tim, I..."  
"Don't argue, I'm sure you haven't eaten all day."  
With that Tim hung up and Jon let himself sink back into his chair with a heavy sigh. Tim was right, he had eaten nothing all day except Martin's coffee and he hadn't noticed it was so late. Maybe it was good that Tim wanted to bring some food. His stomach growled as if to confirm.  
  
Jon used the twenty minutes Tim needed to come back to close the shop and wait for him outside.  
"We'll eat upstairs," he said as a greeting and opened the intricate iron gate that separated the entrance to the apartment from the street. "No food in The Archive."  
"It's good to see you, too, Jon," Tim replied sarcastically, but grinned. He was used to Jon's grumpiness and still, they were friends. He had learned that Jon meant no harm. Most of the time at least.  
"Is Elias breathing down your neck? The book?" He asked, while Jon opened the apartment door and muttered something about _Sorry, not really tidy in here_.  
"Well, there's a deadline and I... and I'm working best under pressure, it seems." They put their food on plates and settled on Jon's old, green couch, turning on some documentary on TV.   
"Soo… how’s it going, Jon? How are you?"  
  
“Ah, well, you know… lot’s of work as always and… did you know Martin is my new neighbour?”  
With an astonished face Tim turned to look at Jon, a fork full of noodles hanging in the air close to his mouth.  
“What? You mean… oh, did he move into the… and how do you know?”  
Jon very slowly took a bite of food and chew it, carefully picking his words.   
  
“Ah… I… might have… visited him last night. I... I brought him a poetry book.”   
Tim raised his eyebrows, starting to smile.  
“Oh… you did?” He was grinning now, causing Jon to make a face.   
“It’s… it’s not like that… I… I might need your help, with something even, but… I first gotta talk to Martin about if it is okay.” He had only now realized that Tim worked for some very good lawyers and might be able to help Jon to solve Martin’s “Stranger” problem. But he would not talk about Martin's situation without him knowing that he talked about it. Martin had not even really been comfortable sharing it with Jon and he would not… No, he would not do that. He wouldn't break Martin's trust.   
  
“Oh, alright…” Tims grin had vanished. It was one of the things that Jon really liked about Tim. He was flirty and very extroverted at times and could wear your nerves thin, but the moment he realized that something was serious or that you were not having fun anymore, he stopped immediately.   
“You brought him a book then? Did he like it… are you like… friends?”  
„Ah… I don’t know? I don’t… I might have… read him poetry until he fell asleep, but I don’t… know him?“  
Tim blinks. Once. Twice. Jon knows that he must have said or done something really wrong when the huge grin returns to Tims face, lighting it up and making his eyes sparkle with joy.  
„So you… let me get this straight, you not only gave him a book about something he really likes, you also read him… bedtime poems? Jon… do you have a crush on Martin?“  
  
Jon almost choked on his noodles.  
„Wha- Tim, I don’t… you know that I don’t… and not with… I mean, you wouldn’t understand, you look...“ he tried to explain himself while he gestured up and down Tim’s _everything.  
_ „You know that I am not…“  
Tim gave him a determined look.  
  
„Okay… two things. No, three actually. First, you thinking about all that in this detail tells me you like our new baker friend more than you realize. Nah, let me finish. Second, I know about insecurities and I am… I am not the Casanova people think I am, okay? Third you should ask Martin to be your _Plus One_ to Georgie’s and Melanie’s wedding.“  
Jon need time to think about this. So he concentrated on the thing Tim had said that did not include his own feelings.   
  
„You… I never said you were a Casanova, Tim, I don’t… but you are always so confident. You look… good and you know how to talk to people.“ Both qualities that Jon was not sure if he really wanted to possess, but which would be very practical in such matters.  
„Yeah, well, I had to learn that the hard way, though? My… my brother always was… he…“ Tim stops himself and takes a deep breath.  
  
„I was a scrawny child. I was not particularly clever or strong or good looking. That was my brother. And he… in the end that did not help him. At all. And I decided to… to become confident and I exercised and learned and I did it all not even for myself but to… be better and… able to help. So that what happened to my brother won’t happen again. I am not… I have to be confident, Jon. That does not always mean that I really am.“  
Jon knew about Tim’s brother but not much about Tim’s motivations regarding all of this. Tim rarely spoke about the topic at all and Jon realized that this must be very important for him. It was important that Jon understood. And he did, at least a little bit.  
  
„I am… sorry I thought wrong of you, Tim. I… did not know that, of course, but… please don’t think that I... “  
„It’s okay. I just wanted you to know that maybe I can understand better than you think.“  
There is a moment of silence. Jon wants to say something meaningful, but he can’t. He wants to comfort Tim, who seems lost in thought, but he does not know how.  
  
„I am not inviting Martin to the wedding, though.” Tims snorts a laugh.  
“I thought you, me and Sasha would just…“  
„Well… I think I will bring my new… boyfriend, Mike, and Sasha also got someone…“  
„Oh.“   
„Ask him. You might even have fun.“  
Jon takes a long moment to answer.  
“I… I might think about it.”  
And Jon actually intended to do so. He knew himself well enough to know that he wouldn't be able to _not_ think about it.


	7. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is back.   
> Jon goes feral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello gentlefolks, it's been a while!  
> Up until the end of February chapters will come at this slower rate because real life get to me, but don't worry, I will not abandon this fic!
> 
> I also did some re-planning and it might turn out with a chapter or two more!
> 
> A huge thank you to LeanMeanSaltineMachine for beta-reading this!  
> They are the best and the only reason you will find any apostrophes in this chapter!

“Hey, Jon… you wouldn’t have some old Keats poetry books around here, would you?”   
Jon lets out an indignant sound, his eyes not moving from the laptop he is working on. It had been a week since the night he met with Tim and a few things had since changed in his so clearly structured schedule. He woke up earlier and got himself a “ _ Jon’s Caramel Kick _ ” at Blackwood Bakery - Martin had named the coffee creation after him and put it onto the menu. He would then open his shop to write on the book. At lunchtime Martin would come over, bringing something sweet for dessert, and they would eat together. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they just sat there, Jon typing and Martin reading whatever book he considered interesting that day. It became somewhat of a new routine and Jon had to admit that he liked having Martin around. He had an easy presence, one that did not use up so much of Jons social energy, and he was comfortable with the days Jon just did not want to talk at all, but instead just needed silent company.   
  
“I… do you…  _ really...  _ like Keats?” Jon did not not want to sound as judgemental as that came out, and he winces internally when he looked up to see Martin’s smile flicker for a moment.   
“I... yes? I… I mean I know, he is… not perfect, he can be quite... pretentious? And… I wouldn’t…”   
“There is a collection of his work up on that shelf over there.” Jon smiled, at least he tried, a weak lifting of the corners of his mouth. He was so tired, not even the Caramel Kick seemed to  _ kick in  _ today. Elias was really bugging him with the deadline, and as every author, Jon had procrastinated writing as long as he could til the point where he no other chance but spend every second writing.  
  
“You don’t… I don’t. I… I would probably never read Keats to you, Martin, but you don’t… you can like whomevers poems you like best. I shouldn’t judge you and I won't.” Martin threw him with a strange look.   
“Okay, I maybe judge  _ a little bit.” _ That statement paired with Jon’s facial expression made Martin laugh and broke the tension. He turned to pick the book up from the top of the shelf, just having to lean forward onto his toes a little. Jon doesn’t know what distracts him more in this moment, the fact that Martin is so big that he can simply reach somewhere Jon would have had to climb onto a chair for… or the fact that Martins jumper slipped up a bit when he stretched, exposing his soft tummy and a fluff of ginger hair around his navel, going down... He remembered Tim’s words, about his  _ feelings  _ towards Martin and his advice to invite the baker to the wedding.   
  
He had thought about it as promised, but yet he hadn’t asked. It was not like he would not  _ want to _ . As long as it took him to think about and process his feelings, this was a strong enough one for even him to realize. Martin had, slowly and warm like a spring breeze, made his way into Jon’s life. In not even a months time Jon had gone from his usual wary self around strangers to feeling comfortable with Martin just being there. He  _ wanted  _ him here. Jon had not felt like this since he was with Georgie, back at university. And of course, to an extent, he felt like this with Tim and Sasha in the beginning, but even with his friends he always got to a point where he needed to be alone. A point where his reserves would be used up and he needed to recharge. He was not sure if he could have daily lunch dates with anyone else but Martin. Daily was a lot, for Jon at least. But they made it work.  
  
In the afternoon, two hours after Martin had left again to the other side of the street, Jon was sorting out a new delivery of books into shelves and the display at the window front. He contemplated going over to Martin to get himself another cup of coffee. He was always tired these days, as he tended to stay up long after midnight, writing himself into a frenzy or just staring at the blinking cursor without writing a word for hours. Jon found himself staring outside the window right now, no cursor, but the stranger, the man who treated Martin badly, catching his attention. The guy walked straight into the bakery and a strange heat welled up in Jon’s chest.   
  
He told himself that this was Martin’s fight and not his own. He told himself that he was weak and tired and didn’t know what was going on in Martin’s personal life. He really tried to talk himself out of it. But then he thought of hearing Martin sob at night, thought of the bruise that had just now started fading, of Martin’s face when he had tried to explain it all to Jon but couldn’t. His feet and body moved without asking for his permission and he was already gone halfway over to the bakery when his brain also had come to the conclusion that he would not watch Martin get mistreated any longer.  
  
With a slightly shaking hand he opened the door and stepped right into the stranger standing way too close to an almost crying Martin.   
“You know you should come back, Martin, you belong with me,” he was saying with a convincing, awfully soft voice that sounded like he actually meant it.   
“Peter, please, lea-” Martins pleading voice abruptly comes to a halt as he notices Jon entering. The grey haired man, Peter, turned around to look at Jon with eyes so cold he felt a shiver running down his spine, even though the bakery was as warm and cosy as ever.   
“This is a private conversation, the bakery is closed, leave.” His voice cuts like shards of ice into Jon’s brain and he feels the overwhelming urge to leave, to just go away... but he catches Martin’s gaze. That was enough to bring the heat back up, red anger melting the cold words swirling in his head. Martin had escaped from living with this grey and icy person, and now Peter tried to rip Martin back out of the new life he had built here.   
  
“I am  _ not  _ a customer, I am Martin’s friend and I really think you should leave. Now.” Jon was too tired and too angry to have any courtesy left in him. His clenched fists trembled, maybe it was the rage, maybe it was the exhaustion. He’s had enough. Martin was his friend,  _ he was _ , Jon couldn’t even be scared about that fact, about how vulnerable it made him. He didn’t care. All that was important right now was for this man to leave and never come back into Martin's life again.   
  
Both stared at him. Martin with an unreadable expression, Peter with open disdain, which quickly changed into a condescending smirk.   
“Ah, Martin's...  _ friend _ . I am very sure about that. Talking  _ all the time _ , knowing  _ all  _ his secrets, I am sure.” Jons blood is boiling, the words nag at his brain. He didn’t know all that much about Martin, yes, but their friendship had only just begun, right? Or did… did Martin not think of them as friends?   
“ _ You  _ are the one who should leave, Jonathan Sims. Go back to your lonely Archive and silent books. You don’t seem like a person who has…  _ friends _ ."  
  
“You!” Jon did not really get loud, but his already dark voice dropped a few tones and it sounded sharp enough to cut your skin if it had to.   
“I know a lot more than you think,  _ Peter _ , and I will end you if you ever lay a hand on Martin again, I swear…” He took a step forward, too much rage contained in his light frame, shaking, eyes deep in their sockets but full of wrath. He wondered if he looked as intimidating as he intended to, or if he just looked like a feral insomniac who was about to have a breakdown.   
  
“I know what you have done to Martin, and I will not let that happen anymore. So leave this bakery, now, and don’t make me say it again.”   
Peter does not look frightened or even impressed, but he shrugs his shoulders and lets his eyes wander from Jon to Martin.   
“Charming  _ friend  _ you got yourself there, dear. But very well… I will leave, for now.”    
He walks out of the bakery without looking back once more and fades into the streets. The glowing feeling of anger that had kept Jon on his feet vanishes, and Martin has to lunge forward and catch him as his legs simply give in.   
  
“Jon, you are completely exhausted,” Martin softly scolds him with a tender expression on his face, as he maneuvers him over into a comfy chair. Jon’s head is slightly swirling.   
“I just… need some more coffee.”   
“You absolutely don’t. You need sleep.” Jon looks up at Martin with something resembling a smile on his lips.   
“Maybe. But that was worth it. That little piece of…”    
“Thank you,” Martin interrupts before Jon can start to swear.   
“Thank you, Jon, that was… I don’t think anyone has ever stood up for me like this, you know.” It freezes Jon’s heart to hear Martins voice break a little as he speaks, a sad smile on his lips. His will to protect Martin from everything evil in this world strengthens.  
  
“Y-you should come over tomorrow, I will… cook you dinner? As a thank you?” Martin said the words quick and with an adorable blush on his face and Jon knew that feeling all too well, when sometimes your mouth is so much quicker than your mind and just says things.   
“I… that would be… if it isn’t too much trouble…?”   
“You just defended me against my stalker ex boyfriend, but dinner would be trouble?”   
There is not much for Jon to say against that.   
“You are my friend, right? I would like to… do something nice for you. Also I make great risotto, you want to try it, believe me.”  
  
Not many times in his life Jon had been that glad to see someone smile again, a real smile.    
“I  _ am  _ your friend… and also I feel like it would be a sin to not try that risotto.”   
“Perfect… tomorrow, around 7pm?”    
“Perfect.”   
“And now you are going to bed and get some sleep.”   
Jon opened his mouth in protest, but closes it again without saying a word. He is unbelievably tired and coffee would only do that much.   
“You know what… I think I will actually do that.”   
“Oh.” Looked like Martin wouldn’t have thought to get to that point so easily.   
“Good night Martin, see you tomorrow.”

With that he left the bakery and dropped face down onto his bed, asleep as soon as he landed on the cushions. He even was too tired to panic about having said yes to something that might, but just not quite, be a date.


	8. Not!Dates and Dance Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you get when the author is procrastinating her actual To-Do's?  
> You get another chapter, sooner than expected!
> 
> A huge THANK YOU to LeanMeanSaltineMachine for beta reading again!  
> They are the reason I am acutally starting to use apostrophes! It is amazing!

A grey jumper landed on the floor on top of a pile of clothes, most of them black turtlenecks and checkered sleeveless sweaters.   
“What on earth do you wear for a… dinner with a friend?! Why is this so difficult?”  
“Date, Jon. It is a date and you want to look good, that’s completely natural.”   
Tim was currently sitting on Jon’s bed with his legs crossed underneath him, phone in hand, watching Jon rummage through his entire wardrobe and giving advice here and there.  
“But Martin also already knows what you look like with all your… vintage librarian style. I am sure he won’t mind you just looking like you always do.”  
  
“I don’t… it’s not a date, Tim, not for Martin, he just wants to be nice and he has a thing for keeping me fed or something, as if I can’t take care of myself.”    
He turned around to Tim to present himself in yet another black turtleneck jumper and saw Tim giving him a deadpan look, eyebrow raised slightly.  
  
“Okay, yes, I  _ don’t  _ know how to take care of myself, but that just strengthens my point.” He wouldn’t let himself believe that it was a date, no matter how much he wanted it to be. Martin had sneaked into his life and made Jon feel things he had thought to have left behind after the whole dating disaster with Georgie. He had not been looking for any romantic feelings - joke was on him, because they seemed to have found him nevertheless. But that did NOT mean that Martin felt the same and so this was not a date.   
  
“Who are you texting all the time, anyways?”    
“Mike, of course. He just sent me the funniest video of a cat trying to skateboard.” Tim jumped to his feet, threw the phone on the bed and made his way over to Jon’s wardrobe, searching through the clothes rack and finally pulling out something Jon had not worn in years.   
  
“This one.” It was a nice jumper in a deep, warm purple colour that brought out the chocolate tones in Jon’s eyes and the warm undertone of his skin. He only did not wear it because it had a slight V-neck and showed of his collarbones a bit too much for Jon’s taste. Still, he pulled it over his head, unsure frown on his face, but Tim seemed to be happy with what he was seeing.  
  
“Yes, definitely this one.”   
“I guess it’s as good as it gets. And don’t you have your own date waiting for you?” Jon indicated the phone by nodding towards the bed.  
  
“Oh, so you do admit that it is a date now?”   
“Tim!”  
  
\---  
  
After a small debate with himself whether to put his hair up in a bun or leave it down- he decided on the second option in the end - and walking up and down the hallway, trying to decide if he should be two minutes early, exactly on time, or two minutes late, Jon finally found himself face to face with Martin’s door. He had just about lifted his hand and knocked one time when the door was being opened already, a bit too quickly. For a moment he wondered if Martin had been standing right there, waiting for him, maybe just as nervous as he was himself.   
  
“Jon, hi!” Martin sounded a bit breathless and he looked stunning with his slight stubble, freckles and without the usual apron.  
“Martin.”   
“You… oh, that is a very nice sweater, that colour looks great on you! Come in.” Jon made a mental note to buy Tim those chocolates he liked so much for helping him pick the right outfit. The slightly awkward moment of them standing in the entryway quickly passed as Martin just started to talk about his day as he usually did, leading Jon into his kitchen, where something smelling absolutely delicious was already simmering on the stove. Jon felt himself relax, as he always did when he was near Martin and his calming presence.   
  
“I hope you like mushrooms? And… don’t mind me adding with some wine?”   
“Sounds wonderful.” Jon smiling once again, the happy feelings started to get out of control. Somehow though he did not really want them to stop, either.  
He stood next to him and just watched Martin work his magic with rice, vegetables and white wine as he would have felt strange sitting at the table while Martin did all the work.   
  
“I could lay the table, where are your-” Jon found the plates and realized that Martin, tall as he was, stored his tableware up on open shelves which Jon wouldn’t be able to reach without climbing onto a chair.   
“Oh, wait, let me just…” Martin leaned over Jon and took two plates and wine glasses, placing them on the counter for Jon, who found it really hard to concentrate on anything but Martin being so close that he could smell his cologne. The moment Martin realized how close they were he started to blush bright red and took a step away. Of course he did. This was not a date, after all.   
  
\---  
  
“You know,” Martin spoke between two bites of risotto, “Melanie and Georgie invited me to their wedding. Which is incredibly nice, I mean, I am just their baker, right? But they said we also were friends and…” The way Martin talked about this made Jon realize that, probably because Peter, Martin, lovely sunshine Martin, had even less friends than himself. It seemed so unfair to Jon. He knew he himself did not deserve the wonderful friends he had, not really, but Martin… Martin deserved to be loved.   
  
“I’ve never been to a wedding, you know?” Big blue eyes focused on him, an expectant expression on his face and Jon realized he had drifted into thoughts while Martin had been talking.   
“Oh, sorry, you… I’ve been… to two of them, both awfully tacky weddings of college friends. I can’t even dance, so it was quite unpleasant to just… sit around and try to keep up polite conversation with people you don’t know or care about. The food was nice, though.”  
Martin laughed at his matter of fact tone.  
“I mean, this one will be better, right? You know the people, they are your friends… and what do you mean you can’t dance? Like… not at all, not even a waltz?”  
  
Conversation went on between them, as they finished their meal and a glass of wine and even while Martin washed the dishes and Jon helped him to dry them. Then Martin turned away, and for a moment Jon wondered if he had done something wrong, until a soft and somewhat familiar tune started to chime out of a little radio that Martin had just switched on.   
  
“Give me your hand.”   
Jon slowly glanced up at Martin, who was blushing again, just as Jon felt his own cheeks grow hot.   
“W-Wha-”  
“You said you can’t dance. I could… show you, if you want to? I learned how to dance pretty well, back when… ah, yeah, I could teach you?”   
His hand was right there and even though Jon’s brain was firing a thousand thoughts a second, warning him that this was a bad idea and that it could not, absolutely not end well, Jon raised his own hand and placed it on top of Martin’s.   
“Fine. But don’t blame me for your bruised toes later.”   
  
Jon felt like he was swaying through the flames of hell in the arms of an angel. Martin was holding his hand, the other one on Jon’s hips and with the patience of a kindergartener explaining to a four-year-old why you can’t eat dirt he tried to teach Jon how to dance. If he was surprised or annoyed by Jon’s absolute lack of body awareness he didn’t show it. Jon, who hated feeling incompetent, was about as red as a tomato. It was sweet torture - stumbling and falling again, falling over his own feet and into Martin’s arms, humiliation mixed with an ever growing need to be closer to him. Falling for Martin.   
  
“You know… you should… maybe we should go to the wedding... together. So I can just dance with you and nobody else dares to even ask me to.” The words are spoken before he can think about them in detail and now he can’t take them back. Their dance lesson had turned into Jon resting his hands on Martin’s shoulders and his head on his chest, Martin’s hands on his hips, both just swaying slightly with the music.   
  
“You want to go to the wedding… with me?”   
_ Yes, you idiot, there is nothing I want more right now than to actually date you, _ Jon wanted to say.  
“Yes, I mean… we are friends right? It would be nice not having to go there alone,” is what he said out loud. A very long moment of silence follows, even the music had stopped playing by now. He must have overstepped Martin’s boundaries. There was no way he would want to go to the wedding with Jon, just as friends or not. Martin probably would find a very nice date, someone who was great at dancing and conversations and-  
  
“That… would be really nice. I would love to go there with you… as friends.” There was something strange in the way Martin said  _ friends. _ And even though Jon’s heart beat a bit faster, because Martin had actually said yes, he was sure that there must have been some way that he still messed up.   
  
Neither of them let go of the other, though. Not for a long time.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday nights, new revelations and important questions!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE THANKS to LeanMeanSaltineMachine for beta-reading and to dathen for helping a lot with aromantic confusion!

“So, you and Martin will be going to the wedding together?” Tim’s grin looked almost painfully wide, and his and everyone else's eyes were directly looking at Jon.   
  
“I… yes, we will, but… as friends. So much about your  _ It is definitely a date, Jon  _ speech,” Jon answered, trying to not sound too bitter about it. Tim sighed dramatically and sank against Mike, whom he had brought for the first time to their friday night outings. It had to be pretty serious with the two of them, Tim had never actually brought one of the people he was dating.   
  
“Ahhh, but the way you told it makes it sound like… I’m not too sure about that yet, don’t give up hope. I also believed Tim when he told me  _ I only ever do casual things _ and yet here we are, right?” Mike seemed… decent enough. He was tiny, even smaller than Jon, wore a leather jacket, had a big scar spreading over his neck and chest (as much of that as one could see) and somehow too white teeth. Him and Tim next to each other were almost too good looking of a couple. One of those couples you would love to hate if they weren’t your friends.  
  
“Yeah… that was probably not one of my brightest moments… but I am glad it worked out,” Tim replied with a dreamy smile. They looked at each other so yearningly that Jon felt slightly sick in his stomach and then started they to snog. It wasn’t as if he was disgusted by their kissing - even though it was a bit much PDA for them all sitting in a pub. It was the tiny voice in his head telling him that, if he was being completely honest to himself, he might have wanted to kiss Martin like this, when they were dancing in the kitchen yesterday.   
  
“Oi, stop that, do you lovebirds see the rest of us snogging as if we wanted to eat each others faces? We are literally the ones who are about to get married.” Melanie threw a coaster at Tim, proving incredible aim as she straight up hit him on the back of his head.  
  
“Please tell me if Michael and I ever are this obnoxious when I introduce them to you,” Sasha adds and Tim, who had by now parted his lips from Mike’s, stuck his tongue out at her.  
  
“I thought you were just friends with Michael? You always told me you are not the type for romance… but that sounds like there might be more?” Georgie asked Sasha with earnest interest.  
  
“I think.. I am  _ figuring things out  _ at the moment? I still am not romantically attracted to Michael or people in general, of that I am sure, but… I’ve had a few quite strange weeks and I did not feel like myself anymore and Michael helped me a lot. It’s like, you know I’ve not texted you all as much as I used to and I didn’t really want to talk to anyone… Well, anyone but Michael, because it is somehow different? It’s hard to put into words, I just really like them and they told me they had feelings for me and even if I don’t… reciprocate those feelings in a romantic way, I want to be with them and make them happy? And they understand that and want to be with me, even if it is not a classic…  _ relationship _ .” Sasha was slightly blushing, starting to speak a bit faster with every word.  
  
“Please don’t feel like you have to justify yourself, Sasha, I really was just curious. And I am so happy for you, that you’ve found someone and that they are good for you and like you the way you are! You are bringing them to the wedding, right?” Georgie replied to Sasha, who nodded, blushing more and even Jon, who was the worst at interpreting feelings, could see how happy she was and how much she was glowing just thinking about this Michael.  
  
\---  
  
“Hey, Jon, wait a second.” Tim caught up to Jon as they all made their way home, after just having said goodbye to each other. They lived closest to each other and where the last ones on their way. Mike was waiting a few steps away, leaning against a corner and checking his phone.  
  
“I… have you noticed that there is an older dude who hangs out at Martin’s bakery sometimes?” Jon instantly felt alert. He hadn’t told Tim about the whole Peter situation, he was still waiting for the right moment to ask Martin if it would be okay to ask Tim for help. He hadn’t found the moment yet. Whenever the topic came up, Martin seemed to crumble, face pale and eyes losing their sparke. Jon tried his best to not bring it up. He just couldn’t… he didn’t want Martin to look that sad and afraid.   
  
“Maybe…? Greyish hair and a cap like a sea captain?” Hopefully this was vague enough for Tim not to find out that Jon knew more than he wanted to tell. Tim nodded with a grave expression on his face. They were standing in the dim shadows of the side street, just barely lit by a street lamp and with his face half covered in darkness, Tim looked as if he was about to tell Jon that the guy was a serial killer.   
  
“Yeah, that’s the one. I have a bad feeling about him. There’s a case, at the law firm… I can’t tell you anything detailed, but… his name is Peter Lukas and I feel like there is something very wrong with him. And he is also…."  
He left the sentence unfinished, hanging there in between them. Jon, whose thoughts had begun to race around his head at the mentioning of Peter’s last name, slowly pieced together a few strings of information. He knew Peter’s last name. He knew who Peter Lukas was.  
  
“... he is also the co-owner of Bouchard&Lukas Publishing. He is… my boss,” Jon finished the sentence. They shared a look, both not really sure what to do with this information, but Jon was glad just  _ knowing  _ a bit more. Another piece of information that might, just maybe, help him to help Martin.   
  
“That… I will keep an eye out for him. You’re right… I also had a bad feeling about him when I noticed him entering the Bakery. Something… just not good about him.” That might be a bit of an understatement, but he still kept his self-made promise to not tell anyone about Martin’s private life before asking Martin’s permission. He had a lot to think about now.   
  
“Good night, Tim. See you soon?”  
  
“Night, Jon!”   
  
Sleep didn’t find him easily this night, his head still racing, thoughts chasing each other. That  _ must  _ be worth something. There had to be a way to use this to their advantage, somehow… somehow he would… he fell asleep without finding a solution.  
  
He dreamt of Martin, though. Nice dreams for once.  
  
\---  
  
It was almost embarrassing how quickly Jon looked up towards the door when he heard it swing open. Martin had been a bit… distant, since the date. They still texted each other now and then, but not quite as much as they had before. He also had not shown up for their usual shared lunch yesterday, sending only a little note of “Sorry, very busy today, can’t make it”.    
Jon shouldn’t be worried about it, right? But ever since the newest revelations about Peter and now Martin lessening their contact after the date -  _ yes, okay, it probably had been a date! _ \- Jon couldn’t shake the bad, lingering feeling off of himself that  _ something. was. wrong. _   
  
It wasn’t Martin coming through the door now, though. Glowing in the spring light, looking as beautiful as always, Georgie swung into The Archive, a huge smile on her face, a take away bag in her hand. The whole room filled with the amazing smell of curry.  
  
“Hi Jon! I brought lunch, I hope you don’t mind?”  
  
Jon faintly smiled at her and cleared his desk enough for both of them to sit down and place the takeaway containers. After having had lunch alone yesterday for the first time since over a week, he was glad to have some company now. He had actually gotten used to it, eating lunch, talking and all. Being with Martin, mostly. He missed him.   
  
“Were you just around here, or… is there something I can help you with, Georgie?” he asked as they both were almost done, not really hungry anymore, just continuing to take a bite now and then because the curry was delicious and they didn’t really want to stop eating.   
  
“Well… yeah, there was something I wanted to ask you about… the wedding.” Georgie looked a bit nervous, and Jon wondered for a moment if something had gone wrong, if anything had happened between Georgie and Melanie... or had they decided that they didn’t want him there at the wedding? Didn’t want one of the bride’s ex boyfriends there, it would be understandable. In not even a minute of Georgie collecting her thoughts his brain produced the most terrible scenarios, when Georgie took his hand into his and smiled at him.  
  
“Stop overthinking, Jon. I am trying to ask you to be my best man, not to kick you out of the wedding.” He stared at her, blinking. Once. Twice. Trying to realize what she had just told him. Best man. Him?  
  
“You… really?  _ Me? _ ”  
  
“Yes, really, you idiot.” She smiled at him, fondly. “You’re my best friend, Jon, and I trust you and I want you to be an important part in all this and… you’re the best  _ best man  _ I could imagine. You don’t even have to give a speech or something-”  
  
“I would be honored to be your best man,” Jon answered before he could think more about it. But in the end - he wouldn’t have said no, even after overthinking this. Georgie wanted him to be her best man and so he would be the best man, because she deserved the wedding of her dreams. She deserved to be happy.  
  
He sunk a bit into the warmth of her arms as she was pulling him into a hug and he wrapped his own arms around her. They hadn’t talked all that much in the last few weeks, and he realized that he missed Georgie. She was his best friend, after all.   
  
“Thank you, Jon, really! I am sooo nervous and there is so much to plan and I am so happy you are on board and that you want to do this. It slowly is all coming together.”   
  
They talked on for quite a bit, Georgie telling him all about their wedding plans, as well as trying to coax a bit more out of Jon about his feelings for Martin and both of them finishing up the curry. It was nice. But her seemingly innocent questions about Martin and their date brought back some grey, cloudy thoughts. Martin hadn’t shown up today, again. Not even a message on his phone this time. After the date Jon had been thinking that he had done something wrong. Now he was convinced of that. Maybe he should go and visit Martin this evening. See if he was okay or if he just didn’t want to speak anymore. If the latter was the case, then... well, at least he would know right?  
  
Georgie had to go back to work eventually, just as much as he did, and so she left him with his thoughts, sitting in a room that got colder with every minute he spent there without Martin.   
  
What on earth was going on with him?   
  
How could he be that smitten with someone?  
  
Why on earth was he in love with Martin Blackwood?  
  
Wait… _ IN LOVE? _


	10. Smokes and Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys actually manage to talk in this one.   
> I almost can't believe it myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest THANK YOU as always to Lee - LeanMeanSaltineMachine - for beta-reading! <3
> 
> Also thank you to everyone reading and leaving kudos and commenting,   
> y'all can't believe how happy you make me with enjoying this story!

Where on earth did the word  _ love  _ in his brain come from, now? Yes, he liked Martin, yes, he might have wanted to kiss him and yes, he missed him when they didn’t see each other for a day or two… good God, he really was falling hard, wasn’t he? The kind of falling he always rolled his eyes at when reading a novel that contained romance stories. The kind of yearning he always thought to be quite exaggerated.   
  
The world outside had already gone dark and probably quite cold - spring was around the corner, but the nights still dropped low in temperatures. Checking his watch, Jon realized he had sat there, completely lost in thoughts, for hours and it was about time to close the store. A fool in love, huh?  
  
What he really, really wanted right now, was a cigarette. He had stopped smoking years ago, sometime when he was still in a relationship with Georgie, who had no problem with him smoking, but didn’t do it herself. Now there was nothing he craved more than the gentle lightheadedness that nicotine gave you, the burning on his tongue, his thoughts slowing down slightly.   
  
Well, he was a grown up man, wasn’t he? If he wanted a cigarette, he could just go to the store and buy a pack, smoke one cigarette and then just forget the rest in his pocket for the next month or so. Jon was on his feet before he really knew it, closing The Archive almost automatically and found himself out in the freezing, clear air that always built such a contrast to the bookstore‘s smell of old books and leather. It almost smelled like snow - there were a few cold nights to come, probably.   
  
He wandered through the dark, dimly lit side streets, slowly searching for a store that would sell cigarettes while lost in his mind.  _ Martin probably wouldn’t want him smoking _ . He banned that thought. It was his life, his own, and just because his heart had decided to go crazy and fall in love, that didn’t mean that his brain had to listen to it, right? Right.  
  
Finally clutching a small pack of cigarettes and a lighter, he made his way towards the park - he would definitely not smoke in his flat, and the park, through a bit  _ spooky  _ at nights, also looked beautiful in the crisp, starry night. Jon took a drag, inhaling deep and almost instantly the slight buzzing in his head was there, numbing his thoughts a bit. He had always reacted quite strongly to nicotine.  _ What a crazy day _ . What crazy weeks, to be completely honest. Ever since there had been fairy lights suddenly in the old store across the street, his life had been turned upside down. All because of…  
  
Martin, who was sitting there, head in his hands on an old, wooden park bench. He was shaking. Jon couldn’t tell if he was crying or if it simply was the cold - Martin was wearing one of his soft jumpers, but no jacket. Jon’s own fingers were frozen already, still holding the lit cigarette between them, and he was wearing a winter coat. Martin didn’t notice Jon until he sat down right next to him, taking another deep drag of smoke, letting it stream out of his mouth slowly.  
  
“Would you mind going literally anywhere el-” Martin stopped right in his sentence; he had lifted his tearstained, angry face and turned around to send the intruder away, only now realizing that it was someone he knew.   
  
“Jon. What are you doing here?” His brows furrowed, he tried to clean the tears off of his face with his bare hands. Martin looked pale, almost paperwhite, his cheeks reddened unnaturally. Wide eyes making him seem so scared. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to show Martin that he had found him like this. But on the other hand, Jon was glad that he had found him at all.   
  
“Smoking. Thinking. What are  _ you  _ doing here?”  
  
“Freezing. Also thinking.” And crying, Jon added in his mind. He wanted to know why, he always wanted to know. Had it been Peter Lukas again? Or was it someone else's fault? Was it maybe even his own? It wouldn’t be a surprise to Jon if it, somehow, was his fault.   
  
“You’ll catch a cold.” Jon reached out to take Martin’s fingers between his, after carefully stubbing out the cigarette to have both his hands free. Martin's skin felt cold as ice and he shivered when Jon touched him, enclosing the much bigger hands into his own, trying to warm them up.   
  
“Probably,” Martin murmured. He didn’t pull his hands away. Jon had no intentions to let go of them. So they just sat there, staring out into the darkness, faded by distant street lamps and city lights. Holding hands.   
  
“I don’t care all that much, though.”  
  
“Do you… want to tell me about it?” Jon asked, carefully. It was silent out here, almost eerily cold and clear and dark. Maybe it was the right place for this kind of conversation, the right place to talk about things that you didn’t want to think of out there in  _ the real world.  _ Jon was holding Martin's hands, so this couldn’t be the real universe, right? It was something else, something more than reality. Their own tiny bubble, in which nothing could hurt, not even talking about the terrible things that had happened.   
  
“I… I want to, yes.” Martin stared at the cobbled path beneath his feet. “It’s just… I trust you, Jon and… I just don’t want you to think differently of me, after you know about it.”   
Jon interlaced his fingers with Martin's and gently squeezed his hands.  
  
“Don’t worry, Martin. I don’t think there is  _ anything  _ that you could tell me that would make me think differently of you.” Or feel different about you.  _ I’m already lost, can’t you see? _ Jon hoped that it was enough of reassurance, that Martin would know, deep down, that Jon could never hate him, no matter what he had to tell.   
  
“I am so scared, Jon. Of Peter. I mean, I am sure you already noticed that, but… I don’t know how it happened, really? He was my boss, back when I was working every job that I could just to have enough money to support my mum. She was sick, you know, and… he helped me, through that time. I was a shadow of myself when she died and he… picked me up. He offered me a place to live, he offered me comfort and warmth and a purpose.   
  
“After I took care of mum for so long, I didn’t know what to do, just being by myself. He even was the one who discovered that I loved to bake and was good at it, he helped me learn and develop. I didn’t notice how he took over my life. I’ve never had many friends, but he told me that the ones I had would hold me down, they would  _ stop me from growing, making me wilt like a flower just about to bloom _ . I believed him and I didn’t contact them anymore. Peter was all I needed, right? My guardian angel.   
  
“It took me a while to notice that he was controlling everything. Where I lived. Where and what I worked as. My no longer existing friends. I didn’t notice until it was too late. I didn’t care that he sometimes got angry at me when I  _ disobeyed _ , he’d just had a bad day, hadn’t he? He was the one who saved me, he would never really hurt me… right? It was all my fault, I just wasn’t good enough and I tried to be better.”  
  
The the burning anger that rose inside of Jon’s body, should have been enough to melt the lacy ice covering the trees, enough to heat Martin up and let him feel cosy and warm. Jon felt the flames inside of him dancing, an intense desire to just set Peter Lukas on fire and laugh while watching him burn.   
  
“I found him, one day… I came home early from work and… I found him sleeping with someone else… in  _ our  _ bed.” Martin's lips quivered, he was close to tears. Again.  
  
“I left him. It was… the hardest thing I ever did, because at first I still loved him. I hated him, but I loved him and he lured me in with sweet lies again. That it had been nothing serious, that he was sorry, that he wanted me to come back, that he missed me. He called so often.  
  
“He found me in the tiny flat I got after leaving and he was… he knows how to sound nice and understanding, but… he always did before he was about to  _ punish  _ me.” Martin shivered and Jon detached one of his hand from Martin’s fingers only to wrap an arm around his shoulders.   
  
“I fled again and I… well, you know the rest of the story. He still wants me back and he is a  _ brutal  _ man. Cold. It took me so long to realize… and he knows me so well, he knows exactly how to get to me and make me feel worthless again. As if the only thing that could make me be worth something would be being with him, letting him take control again… because noone else would ever want me.”  
  
Martin couldn’t continue to speak anymore, silent tears running down his face and Jon wrapped both arms around Martin tightly, held him close and just let him cry for a while.  
  
“Come on,” he finally whispered into Martin's ear, his voice soft in a way he didn’t recognize, “I’ll take you home. We’ll get you all warmed up, yeah?” Martin nodded, again trying to wipe away the tears, hands shaking.  
  
“You are so brave, Martin.” Jon gently took Martin’s face between his ice cold hands for a moment, thumbs stroking over his cheeks. “You are so strong and brave. Thank you for telling me, Martin. For trusting me.”   
  
They walked home, hurdled together, arms around each other to keep the cold away at least a little bit. Jon was determined to  _ end  _ Peter Lukas. He would destroy this person, he wanted to hurt him for what he had done to Martin. The thought of his smug face, of his cutting words. Thinking that Martin endured it for years. That he had been cut off, that… that himself and Mel and Georgie and the others were the first friends Martin had in a very long time. It wasn’t fair. Jon accepted that life wasn’t fair, that bad things happened when it came to him. But for Martin he wouldn’t accept this. Martin deserved happiness and fairy lights and a perfect life with his little bakery and friends and love.   
  
\---  
  
They snuggled up on the couch with some hot and sweet tea and wrapped into a fluffy blanket. Jon had taken the poetry collection from the coffee table and flipped through a few pages again, trying to find something light and calming for them to read.   
  
“Don’t worry, Martin,” he promised, head against the other’s soft shoulder, hoping the blush creeping onto his face would just seem like the glow of warming up after being in the cold for so long, “I promise you, you are not alone anymore. You have me now. I won’t let Peter Lukas get you again.”   
  
He read Martin to sleep again, poem after poem, until his own eyelids grew tired and his limbs felt too heavy to lift them off the couch. And so he stayed. Falling asleep curled up against Martin Blackwood was nice. More than nice. It was warm and soft and safe and Jon, for the first time, thought that it might actually be pretty nice to be in love. 


	11. Revelations (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are now in the last few chapters - and as this one got ridiculously long I decided to split it.  
> (Which means you might get one chapter more than planned, but we'll see!)
> 
> As always, the biggest THANK YOU go out to LeanMeanSaltineMachine for beta reading this chapter!

Jon was woken up by golden sunbeams tickling his nose and the divinely sweet smell of freshly baked bread and tea. His back hurt like hell and he was draped over a couch that was not his own.  _ Martin.  _ The couch belonged to Martin. He slowly remembered the happenings of the day before, going home with him after talking in the park and finally falling asleep on his shoulder. Now Martin was gone, but Jon could hear him going about in the kitchen.   
  
Had he woken up all confused and wondered why Jon was still there? Was it  _ okay  _ that he still was here in Martin’s flat? Yesterday it had seemed like a wonderful idea. They had cuddled, they had talked, hell, they already had danced with each other a few days before. Falling asleep on each other wasn't that much of a weird step further into whatever their relationship was. Right? Or was Martin just waiting for Jon to wake up so he could finally throw him out?   
No, Martin wouldn't do that. Even if Jon staying overnight had bothered him, he wouldn’t say a thing about it.  
  
“You’re awake! Perfect, breakfast is ready.” Martin looked incredibly…  _ domestic  _ standing in the door frame that connected the kitchen with the living room. He wore sweatpants, a white t-shirt, his hair was ruffled and his smile sleepy. He was the most beautiful human being Jon had ever laid eyes on. The teacup in his hand just perfected the picture, the whole scene dipped into the golden colours of the rising sun.   
  
“Ah, yes, I am… almost awake I would say.” A sheepish smile stole itself on Jon’s lips and Martin grinned back, ruffling his hair with one hand, looking just as awkward as Jon felt.   
  
“Good! Breakfast is almost ready, I hope bread with peanut butter and marmalade is okay? I don’t usually eat breakfast because I am baking and trying food all day anyways?” Martin seemed so unsure and sweet about the situation, as if he really thought it wouldn’t be enough, wondering if he was good enough. Jon found it incredibly endearing, but it also made his hate for Peter Lukas grow. It was his fault that Martin even wondered.   
  
“It’s perfect, really, Martin, you wouldn't have had to make  _ anything _ , I am the one who just… fell asleep here and…” Jon swung his legs off of the couch, ignoring the horrible cracking sound his bones made. He tried - unsuccessfully - to somewhat manage his hair into a presentable form while adding: “... and... thank you, really. Are you… feeling better?”   
  
They had entered the kitchen and sat down to have their breakfast. Jon took a sip of his tea - it was perfect. As if Martin needed to give him even more reasons to fall in love with him. As if he wasn’t completely lost already.   
  
“Ah, yes, thank you. It helped so much to not be alone yesterday, I really just hope that… I mean, I practically fell asleep on you and I know you… I don’t know how you felt about… being this close to.. another guy…” Martin was rambling and Jon had been about to tell him that it really was no problem and that it all was fine, but the last part made him pause.   
  
“Why would it bother me that you are a guy?” he asked, brows furrowed, staring at a very much blushing Martin in honest confusion.  
  
“Well, I mean, as a straight guy you must-"  
  
“I am  **not straight** , Martin.” The realization almost hurt Jon bodily, all over. Martin had thought he was straight. Martin had… Martin must have been thinking, all this time, that there was no way that Jon could have feelings for him. No matter if he found that positive or negative, he thought that… but in the end, what reason had he given to Martin to  **not** believe him being straight.  
  
“Y-You… wait, you are… not?!” Martin’s eyes grew huge and Jon started to chuckle, he looked so confused and overwhelmed with this information. It was almost cute. But also - Jonathan Sims being straight?  _ Come on, Martin _ . Shouldn’t it have been a clue that practically all of his friends also were very much not straight?   
  
“I am, in fact, an asexual person… and don’t care much about the gender of the people I fall in love with.”  _ Like when I completely fell for you, Martin, can’t you see it? Do you really not know? _ Jon watched Martin’s face as he realized, blushing hard, a piece of toast hanging forgotten in mid air where Martin held it to take a bite.   
  
“You are… oh, wow. I never- that is… I mean, I still hope I haven’t bothered you-”   
  
“You have absolutely not bothered me with falling asleep on me, Martin,” Jon answered firmly, but with a fond smile. “You can fall asleep on me anytime you want.”  
  
Only when Martin started to blush even more, almost matching the colour of his homemade strawberry jam, Jon realized which implications he just made. Well, technically, what Martin must be thinking wasn’t all that wrong, but he didn’t need to know that just yet.  “I-I mean, you know what I mean-” They stared at each other, both tinted red and feeling so awkward about the whole situation. It was so hilariously awkward that Jon couldn’t help but start to laugh, and when he started Martin joined in until they both had to stop, gasping for air.  
  
“Well, good that we finally got around to talk about that,” Martin finally brought out when their laughter had died down, both now grinning like idiots.   
  
“Oh, and by the way, do you want to borrow a sweater? You’ve slept in this one and… you’ve got some jam on it.” Jon looked down onto his crumbled up and dirty shirt.   
  
“Well, that… would be very nice of you.”  
  
\---  
  
Jon was wrapped into an unbelievably soft sweater that smelled like Martin Blackwood. It was pale blue and much too big for him, but he couldn’t imagine anything better than pulling the sleeves all the way over his skinny, always cold hands and secretly burying his nose into the collar to take in the scent of Martin’s cologne and something that was just… him.   
  
He had only remembered that he actually lived next door to Martin and could just go and change into his own sweater anytime once they walked outside into the hallway. By then, he already had decided to never take that sweater off again. Martin’s gaze flickered from Jon, to the door and back. Martin let out a surprised laugh - apparently he also had forgotten the fact that they actually were neighbours.  
  
“Keep it on, it suits you,” Martin said with an undertone in his voice that Jon couldn’t just quite describe. It made him feel warm. They made their way down into the still dark street, where Jon remembered something he had wanted to ask Martin in ages.  
  
“Hey, uh… okay, well, uhm...” Martin looked at him so expectantly and he was a bit lost for words.  “The whole… about the whole Peter thing, Martin, I… I was wondering, if it would be okay for you, if I told Tim and Sasha about it. Not- not everything, of course, but Tim works for some really good lawyers and Sasha is probably the best researcher I ever met and if anybody can find information that might… help you… help  _ us  _ to get this man out of your life than it would be those two. Of course if you don’t want me to tell them, I’ll-”  
  
“It’s okay, Jon,” Martin interrupted to stop him from rambling on further. “If you think they could help, it is fine for me if you tell them. They are your friends and… they are mine, too, I think.” He smiled, a bit sadder than before. Maybe he wondered if Tim and Sasha would call him a friend, too. Jon was sure of it.   
  
“Thank you, though. For asking my permission.” Martin sounded as if not many people in his life would have asked before telling something so personal about him to someone else, and Jon’s anger at everyone who treated Martin Blackwood wrong grew with each second. Then Martin placed a warm hand onto Jon’s upper arm, bent down to him and kissed him on the cheek. Jon’s anger ran dry as fast as it had welled up.   
  
“I’ll see you at lunchtime?” he asked while walking away towards his shop, leaving Jon standing in the street, dumbstruck, touching the spot Martin’s soft lips had touched him just a moment ago.   
  
“See you at lunch,” he answered, a whisper only he himself could hear.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the wonderful Lee said: guess we have to kill peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that this is the last chapter before the ending.  
> Thank you so, so much to everyone who left kudos or comments, y'all are the best!
> 
> A huge big thank you, as always, goes out to Lee @LeanMeanSaltineMachine for beta reading this chapter <3
> 
> \---  
> I just realized that this is a loooong chapter.   
> Enjoy!

Jon had texted both Tim and Sasha before lunchtime on the same day. It didn’t take much more than:  
  
**My boss Peter Lukas has treated Martin really badly and won't leave him alone. We need to get rid of him. Find evidence, please help me. Help Martin. Jon  
  
** They both answered about 5 minutes later, saying they would make it a priority and that no one would treat one of them badly. Sasha said that  _ Martin belonged to them now and was their friend  _ and Tim told Jon to  _ don’t worry, we will save your boyfriend from the evil man. _ Jon didn’t have it in him to tell Tim again that Martin wasn’t his boyfriend, because… simply because it felt way too good to think it, to read it there in the text. And they were… something more than friends, right?   
  
Normal friends didn’t necessarily do what him and Martin had done. Dancing, falling asleep on another,  _ being in love with each other. _ Well, sadly, the last part still was probably only one-sided, right? He wasn’t even sure about that anymore. Martin had been so sweet this morning and he had kissed Jon goodbye. Hell, Jon was wearing Martin’s sweater right now.  
  
It is still the same evening when Tim facetimes him, just as Jon was about to make himself another cup of tea and finally continue writing his book.  
  
“Jon? I have news- wait, are you wearing Martin’s sweater?”  
  
“I- I might be, but that is not important right now, why are you calling, have you found something out?”  
  
“I have!” Tim seemed to be very proud of himself and held up some papers into the camera.   
  
“I can’t read that, Tim, I don’t even have my glasses on, can’t find them-”  
  
“Alright, so… you know how you said that this dude is Martin’s ex? And that he wants him back, right? So… thing is, Peter Lukas is  _ married. _ ”  Jon stared at the tiny Tim on his phone in disbelief.  
  
“He… wait, what?! To whom?”   
  
“Oh, you're gonna love this… Peter Lukas, Owner of  _ Bouchard&Lukas,  _ is married to his co-owner Elias Bouchard.”  Jon dropped the phone. He could hear Tim’s voice, muffled through the carpet while the blood started to rush in his ears.   
  
“Jon? JON?”  
  
“Sorry, Sorry, dropped you… are you absolutely sure? My two bosses are… married?”  
  
“Sure as I can be, I have a copy of their marriage certificate here. Got married about… probably a week after the time you say Martin and Peter broke up? So that wasn’t much of a pause.”  Jon nodded. He now knew who Martin had found in bed with Peter when he came home, who Peter had cheated on Martin with. Elias Bouchard.   
  
“You’ve helped me A LOT, Tim, I really owe you a favour!”  
  
“Hey, if it helps you and Martin, anytime, Jon. Gotta hurry now, meeting with Mike. See you at the wedding on Saturday?”  
  
“Sure. Bye.”  
  
Jon only had about an hour to try and figure out what this all meant and how it could be used against Peter, when his phone chimed again and Sasha called. She sounded muffled and she clearly was outside: he heard a car and people in the background.  
  
“Jon! I have news and I am not sure if you’ll like it.”  Jon sighed.  
  
“Well, that’s nothing new today, Sasha. What did you find out?”

“Okay, so this Lukas guy is about as dodgy as they come. I’ve found traces of at least two  _ family businesses  _ that seem to be only semi-legal or not even really existing companies, surely to mask some doings. I’ve been digging for a bit, but it also seems like there are a few disappearances, more than there should be, tied to members of the Lukas family. Every so often people just  _ vanish _ and if you read the reports, Peter or some other Lukas has something to do with it. I don’t want to say we are dealing with some kind of… mafia, but Jon, we might be dealing with some kind of mafia.”  
  
Jon had to take a deep breath. This was not something he had expected, but it also didn’t surprise him all that much. Peter Lukas tied into some sketchy businesses and as he was probably responsible for people disappearing, it matched his behaviour prior towards Jon and it matched Martin’s story. He was a master of manipulation and this just fit into the puzzle.  
  
“Alright… so is this anything that would stand… I don’t know, in court, or is this going to be more a kind of…  _ we are trying to blackmail Martin’s ex boyfriend into leaving him alone _ .”  He could hear Sasha laughing. Not a happy laugh, though, more a huff actually.   
  
“Well, I’ve gathered that information more or less legally, but I am a researcher and not an investigator and I don’t think any of this would stand in court…” She didn’t say that this left them with the blackmail part of the plan. She didn’t have to. Jon knew what he had to do.  
  
“Thank you Sasha - are you outdoors? Are you okay?”  
  
“Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine, on my way to meet Michael, he wants to show me the sunrise somewhere in the city on a rooftop and we’re meeting up now and driving there or something?” Sasha was actually laughing now.   
  
“Which means I gotta get going now, see you on Saturday?”   
  
“Sure, take care, Sasha.”  
  
This was how Jon ended up sitting in his bed, legs crossed underneath him, a big notebook in his lap and a pen currently stuck between his lips. There had to be some way to use all this information against Peter Lukas. A way to free Martin from his grip and to make sure that he never had to see this awful person again.   
  
And then he would go the wedding with Martin.   
And maybe they would dance.  
And maybe, just maybe, he would tell Martin how he felt.   
  
\---  
  
Jon had spent the entirety of the night scheming and lost in thought about how he could use the new information to their advantage. The moon had risen and sunk again, and only the stars watched through the window as he once or twice dropped asleep for a minute or two. When the sun greeted him in the morning he had something that almost resembled a plan and eyelids as heavy as Wales.  _ Whales? Where did the whales come from?  _ Jon told himself to go to sleep just as his usual alarm went off.  
  
“Oh well,” he muttered to himself. “At least this gives me an opportunity to visit Martin to get some coffee.” Jon had, at some point this last night when he was stuck in his thoughts, texted Martin all he, Tim, and Sasha had found out so far. It surely was not the wisest decision, and news that should have been delivered in person, but Jon was tired, confused, and he wasn’t sure if he could survive seeing Martin’s face upon the revelations he just wrote to him in a text. He had wondered why Martin didn’t reply. He had stopped wondering when he saw that it was 4am already. They would talk about it in the morning - well, now was morning, technically.   
  
With a deep sigh he changed out of Martin’s jumper. He truly intended to give it back  _ someday.  _ It still smelled like Martin though and Jon hadn’t been able to bring himself to wash it yet. A quick shower and fresh clothes made him feel at least a little bit awake, though. With thoughts of coffee and Martin in his head he walked down the stairs with more energy than he thought he should have after a whole night without sleep.   
  
But the lights were out in the windows of the store across the street. No fairy lights glimmering, no Martin in sight. Worry twisting in his stomach, Jon opened the Archive for the day, while deciding to go up to the flat to check on Martin if he wouldn’t stop by by lunchtime. Meanwhile, strong black tea had to help with his tiredness...  
  
The door swung open for the third time that day and as both times before Jon’s head immediately snapped upwards, a tiny glint of hope filling him before he realized that it was not Martin who walked in through the entrance. This time, on realizing  _ who  _ had just walked in, a strange dread filled him up, dropping heavily into his stomach.   
  
“Good Morning, Archivist,” he was greeted by none other than Elias Bouchard, dressed in a fine suit and wearing a tie with a terrible eye pattern. His grey hair was slicked back neaty without one falling out of line.   
  
“Elias.” He watched as his boss - and Peter Lukas’ husband, Jon could even see the ring - came closer to his desk. The grin on his lips could only be described as predatory. He leaned against the desk with his hip, just watching Jon for a moment.  
  
“I am here to talk to you about the book, Jon.” For a moment, Jon wondered which book Elias was talking about. Then he remembered that it was  _ his  _ book, the one he should be thinking about and writing at this very moment. The book that he hadn’t even thought about in the last week or so, his mind occupied with…  _ Martin.   
  
_ “The book that I haven’t heard about from you in quite a while, so… I just wanted to see if our deal is still standing. You wouldn’t want to lose your beloved little Archive here because you’re  _ out of funding,  _ right?” Jon’s mouth went dry and he slowly nodded, trying to hold Elias’ intense stare, but just not quite able to. Jon wondered if Elias wore coloured contact lenses - he had never seen eyes this  _ poisonous  _ of a colour.   
  
“I understand,” he said, trying to sound as confident as he could after being presented with the possibility of losing both his sources of income. “I had some… personal matters to be dealt with, but those are out of the way now, so I should be able to work on the book without much more delay.”   
  
“Oh, matters of the heart, maybe?” Elias asked, a sly smile on his lips, teeth always shining just a little bit too white. “Lost your head while losing your heart? I know that feeling all too well, trust me.”   
  
Jon’s first reaction was to banish every thought about Elias’ lovelife out of his mind. Then, half a second later, he remembered  _ who  _ Elias must be talking about. Maybe the plan he thought of last night involved another player he had not yet thought about including.   
  
“Well, yes,” Jon admitted, Elias’ eyes going wide at that confession. He surely hadn’t thought that Jon would jump onto his little teasing.  
  
“I sure have lost my heart and… you know, as if those first few weeks of being in love aren’t exciting enough-”  
  
“Oh, they sure are.”  
  
“ -we’ve had to deal with Martin’s ex boyfriend, Percy or… Peter, that was his name, who wants him back so badly.”  Jon watched Elias’ face change. He had wondered just how much about the Martin situation Elias knew. This confirmed that he knew  _ enough  _ to get what Jon was hinting at and it also confirmed that Elias had not known about Peter’s doings.   
  
“I…  _ see _ .”   
  
At this very moment Jon got distracted by a person out in the street walking right into Blackwood Bakery. He would have noticed that coat, beard and sailor hat anytime and anyplace, no matter how sleep deprived. Elias’ gaze had followed his own. He put down the briefcase he had been carrying, straightened his posture and took a deep breath as if to steady himself.  
  
“I’ll be… right back.”  
  
With that, Elias went straight for the door and across the street over towards Martin’s shop. Jon hurried onto his feet to follow him, thoughts racing. This was not good. It was in fact really, terribly, absolutely very bad. He had wanted to talk it all through with Martin, wanted to make a plan and then make sure that nothing could go wrong with it. This was the opposite of what Jon had wanted. Martin would not only be confronted with his abusive ex-boyfriend, but also that man’s new husband.   
  
Elias pushed the door open, not even trying to be subtle about his presence, while Jon did his best to hush through into the room right before the door fell shut behind him. Elias didn’t seem to notice his presence, and Peter’s and Martin’s voices we’re loud and clear audible from the backroom.   
  
“I will not take any of this from you, anymore, Peter! I- I wont! This is absolute nonsense. You are married, for christ's sake! To Jo- to your work partner. I know all about it! And I don’t want or  _ need  _ you in my life. Never did, actually. I found someone else, you know? I- there is someone who I like, really like, and I will not have you interfering in this!”  
  
Martin's voice was a bit shaky, but loud and determined. Elias had stopped right before the entrance to eavesdrop. He didn’t seem angry from what Jon could see of his face - simply interested, a little smile playing on his lips. Oh how much Jon hated that condescending smirk.   
  
“Martin, you need to calm down. Do you really think that he has any interest in you? He is an intelligent man, and you are… well, a baker.”   
  
“You’re words can’t hurt me anymore, Peter. I don’t  **care** what you say. It doesn’t matter. Even if he doesn’t return my feelings, mine stand strong. That is enough for me. Enough to never, ever, want to even be in the same room as you again, actually.”  
  
A tiny pause - Peter seemed to have tried to interrupt Martin, who pressed on. Jon was shaking slightly. He was afraid. Peter was a dangerous man and Martin was playing with fire.   
  
“I know more, Peter. I know about your little family businesses, about the shady deals, about the vanishings. I- I am  **not** stupid. I am  **not** worthless. I am-”  
  
“-talking too much, mostly,” Elias finished Martin’s sentence while entering the backroom. Jon followed, getting as close as he could while trying to stay hidden and unnoticed.   
  
“Also, Jon, why don’t you also come in here, instead of lurking in the shadows like a common pleb.”  
  
So much for Jonathan Sims’ perfect plans. Cheeks burning and distinctly not looking into anyone’s eyes, Jon stepped into the dimly lit room. He could not look Martin in the face. What he had said to Peter, it had been very personal and it hadn’t been meant for him to hear.   
  
“So,” Elias continued, smirk widening into a shark-like grin. “What I am seeing here is that you, Peter, have a decision to make.” Peter Lukas turned to look at his husband, eyes as cold and sharp as the smile that formed on his lips.   
  
“Oh, do I? What kind of decision would that be, Elias?” The tension between the both of them only grew when Elias took a step closer towards the older man. Jon slipped around a corner and further into the room - next to Martin, who was staring at the couple before him with complete disbelief and his hands balled up into fists.   
  
“Well, you either can continue your absolutely  _ boring  _ game of destroying this man’s life, something we’re all rather fed up with, and in followup find divorce papers on your desk first thing tomorrow-” Peter had stepped even closer towards Elias, both now staring at each other in a contest of who would give in first. “Or you leave this little baker to his pathetic little life and concentrate your energy on other, more important people.”  
  
Jon had to stifle a laugh, the “ _ like me _ ” hung in the air so clearly, the jealousy Elias didn’t want to show just barely hidden behind his words. Next to him, Martin’s fists were still shaking, and Jon gently put his hand around Martin’s fingers. Just holding them for a moment, and then, when Martin didn’t pull away, softly opening up the tense fingers until he could lace his own up with them. They didn’t look at each other, both very pointedly watching Elias’ and Peter’s staring duel, but when Martin reassuringly squeezed Jon’s hand, Jon couldn’t help but smile for a moment.   
  
“Well.” It was Peter to break the silence, Peter who admitted defeat. “Let’s go then. This is ridiculous.”  
  
Peter and Elias left. Peter didn’t even turn around for a last time, didn’t look at Martin, or Jon. The game was over and there was no need for him to play anymore. Elias turned around to face Jon just as he was about to step through the door.   
  
“I expect the manuscript of that book on my desk in exactly 4 weeks, Jon.” Then he  _ winked  _ at Jon and followed his husband out the door. Silence filled the room.   
  
Jon and Martin stood there for what might have been hours. Staring blankly at the wall, hands clasped together tightly. Just breathing and trying to realize that it really - finally - was over. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, darlings.  
> See you soon for the last chapter.   
> (I'm so excited!)


	13. All the best things must end, this one has just begun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weddings, speeches and lots, lots of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello...  
> It's me...  
> I've been wondering if after all these months you'd like to read...  
> The last chapter of this fic!
> 
> I am truly, honestly sorry that it took me so long.  
> The world out there is a bit dark and scary at the moment and  
> I am pretty sure that demons stole my creativity to write at one point. 
> 
> Enough of this.  
> I am so proud and maybe a little teary eyed to present you the last chapter of this fic.  
> I thank you all so much for staying with this fic for so long, for your comments and kudos and support.  
> It all helped me to finish my first ever long fic!
> 
> The biggest THANK YOU goes out one last time to Lee, the best beta-reader I could have wished for.  
> I've learned so much from you while working on this together <3
> 
> And now...  
> Enjoy!

The last few days towards the wedding went by in a flurry of stress, organization, and an apparently very wild bachelor party that only the ladies and Martin were allowed to attend. In between picking shirts and renting suits, arranging flower bouquets - Jon was more hindering then helping with this - and Martin baking the beautiful wedding cake, the two of them hadn’t really had a moment to talk about what had happened at that fateful day in the bakeshop.   
  
That didn’t stop them from holding hands ever so often, as if Peter or Elias would rush back into their lives if they dared to let go. Jon loved the way his hand fit into Martin’s, big and warm and soft around his always cold fingers. Especially now, when he gently squeezed his hand, reassuringly, as they sat in a taxi on the way to the wedding venue. Martin looked amazing in his light blue suit, floral patterned shirt and matching bowtie. Jon felt almost underdressed but also knew that this day would cost him enough nerves without having to worry about being dressed too flamboyantly. According to Tim and Martin, who helped him pick his outfit, he looked just right to be a best man in a dark grey suit, white shirt and red tie.   
  
“Oh, there it is… I know I saw it yesterday when we were decorating, but it is-”  
  
“Beautiful.” Jon might not have been looking at the venue when the word escaped his lips, but at Martin, who now looked back at him with a beaming smile.   
  
Martin was right, though. The little white house almost looked like a cottage, the trees were decorated with garlands and fairy lights, the pastel coloured, not always matching chairs stood outside in the grass with a pedestal for the brides to be, the best man, and maid of honor and their registrar. There were a lot of flowers; Georgie told him that her and Melanie wanted to donate the flowers after the wedding and give them to hospitals or retirement homes - to people who needed something to make them smile.   
  
Lots of cars and taxis were pulling up the driveway now. They were hugged and greeted by Tim and Mike, and Sasha finally introduced them to Michael, who was even taller than Martin and had wonderful blond curls. He wouldn’t take his eyes off Sasha longer than he had to. The four of them were tasked to help the other guests find their places and finally Jon and Basira, Melanie’s maid of honor, were waiting at the pedestal with the registrar.   
  
“Is it normal to be _this_ nervous when it isn’t even your own wedding?” he whispered towards Basira, who nodded slightly and grinned at him for a moment. She looked radiant in her dark red dress.  
  
“Not sure if it is _normal,_ but I am definitely nervous. Oh, the music starts, hush now.” They hurried into a straight and formal position, as the song began to swell from the speakers, soft piano tunes floating over the people towards them. Melanie and Georgie walked out of the venue, hand in hand - _we’re bringing each other to the altar, of course_ \- and Jon, for a moment, forgot how to breathe.   
  
It was not the dresses, the hair, or the flowers. It was their smiles and their shining eyes. It was the way they looked at each other, love radiating from them as they exchanged rings and vows. It was Melanie King, of all people, blinking away tears of happiness as she looked at her bride and kissed her, right before they both started to laugh of joy. It was pure and wild and… love.   
  
Their friends erupted in applause as they turned towards them. Over the crowd of people coming up to congratulate them, Jon could catch a glimpse at Martin, whose cheeks were stained with tears while he was smiling so wide Jon wondered if his face hurt. He was the most beautiful person Jon had ever seen. In this moment, bathed in nothing but joy and warmth, he knew that there would never be a turning back for him. That he loved this man with all of his heart. Their eyes met and Martin lit up even further, beaming at Jon - and then got almost thrown to the ground by Sasha and Tim, who were trying to get through to Melanie and Georgie.   
  
It was the most beautiful and chaotic wedding Jon had ever been to. In comparison to the boring, big, and overwhelming receptions of his college friends, he couldn’t imagine there to be a wedding better than this. Except maybe… maybe his own, one day.  
  
\---  
  
“May I ask for a few moments of silence, please?” Jon asked as he stood up from the table after the dinner plates had been cleared. With content smiles, people turned towards him and Martin gave his hand a little squeeze. He knew how nervous Jon was about his best man's speech. Jon cleared his throat and began to speak.  
  
“Those of you who know me will probably be shaking slightly in their chairs because… if you know me, you know I am not one to give speeches.” This earned him a few chuckles from the crowd and seemed to calm his nerves, at least for a moment.  
  
“In fact, our lovely Georgie told me that I don’t have to give a speech the day she asked me to be her best man. I was a little overwhelmed, because at that point I thought she was trying to uninvite me from the wedding.” A little laughter now here and there, positive laughter he hoped.  
  
“She asked me and she told me that because she wanted me to be here. This beautiful, smart and unbelievable woman wanted _me_ of all people to be her best man. And Melanie - I know, we had our ups and downs, my dear - Melanie didn’t stop her. And all of this might sound weird and self-deprecating, but it made me realize that this is… love.” Jon smiled at the two brides and let his gaze wander through the room for a moment.  
  
“Accepting someone, just the way they are. Accepting that your best man is right now digging his own grave trying to give a speech. Accepting that your wife chose said idiot and knowing that it is going to make her happy. Accepting that you are going to make a fool out of yourself but letting nothing stop you from giving that speech.”  
  
“I have never felt so much love in a room before. Love between family, between friends, platonic love, romantic love… and the two of you, radiating love to just make everything look a little brighter in here.” He almost grinned at them now, and this time it was Georgie’s eyes glittering with tears. Jon picked up his glass of wine and raised it towards the two.   
  
“I don’t have to _wish_ for you to have the happiest marriage, because I _know_ it will be. Both of you are so special in your very own ways that compliment each other in the best possible way. I…” Suddenly the words seemed to escape him, no words were fitting to describe his feelings and his wishes for the brides. He bit his lip, and he could feel Martin’s hand searching for his, as if he felt his sudden nervousness returning. Their fingers found each other. It was okay. He could do this. Raising his glass a little higher, he just smiled.  
  
“To the brides!”  
  
“To the brides!” the guests chimed back at them and Jon had the overwhelming desire to empty his glass on the spot and sink into the ground. Only now the realisation that he really had given a speech in front of all those people sank in. Martin’s hand still was firm around his, holding tight.  
  
\---  
  
“Your speech was beautiful.” Martin’s lips almost touched his ear as he whispered that, smiling at Jon with such a proud face that Jon’s cheeks turned even redder than before.   
  
“I… seem to not have made a complete fool out of myself, yes. Thank you.” Jon was about to turn his head, to look Martin straight in the eyes and kiss him right here and there, when a whisper went through the room as Melanie and Georgie stood up from the table and the music began to play once more. He knew that there would be a round or two of classic ballroom dancing and then a switch to party classics and the brides’ favourite songs.  
  
It was magical, watching Melanie spin Georgie as they opened up the dance floor. They looked at each other like there was no one else in the room and when in the end Georgie was the one to dip Melanie down and then pull her up into a kiss the whole room erupted into cheers.   
  
“... Jon?” He spun around to look at Martin’s slightly confused face. He must have called his name a few times already judging his look, while Jon had been transfixed on the beauty of the dance.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I just wanted to ask if you’d like to dance… with me?” Martin added, offering his hand to Jon with the loveliest blush on his cheeks.  
  
“I- uh, yes… yes, of course.” Jon let himself be pulled onto the dance floor and into Martin’s arms. He felt reminded of the day when Martin taught him how to dance in his living room. The day of the not-but-in-hindsight-maybe-a-date-date. What a fool in love he had been ever since. Even allowing the thought of happiness, of this turning out right, had been almost too much. And now, here he was, sweeping _almost_ elegantly.   
  
When the song stopped and he looked up into Martin’s eyes, he couldn’t stop himself any longer.   
  
“Can I kiss you?”  
“I really would like to kiss you right now.”  
  
A moment of silence between them, staring at each other in realization. Then, Martin's lips were on his. Soft. Warm. Gentle. Just a kiss on a crowded wedding dance floor and still changing Jon’s whole world. When they parted, Martin resting his forehead against Jon’s, both slightly swaying in the rhythm of the slow song playing, Jon could feel tears burning in his eyes. Then he started to laugh, silently, against Martin’s shoulder. All the anxiety, all the uncertainty - the kiss had washed them away, leaving nothing behind but the overwhelming love he felt for Martin Blackwood.   
  
“I love you,” he whispered. And he knew that it was entirely too early to say it and he also didn’t care. It was all he could feel and think about and it was the truth.   
  
Before Martin could answer, they were almost run over by Sasha and Michael waltzing into them and Tim, with the biggest grin on his face, yelling over at them. The slow song had ended and time seemed to have gone by in strange and mysterious ways.  
  
“Hey, you two lovebirds, it’s time to have cake!”   
  
\---  
  
Way after midnight Jon, half asleep, found himself next to Martin in a taxi on the way back to town. Martin still held the bride’s bouquet that he caught to the great amusement of everyone in the wedding party.   
  
A soft kiss was placed next to his mouth and he felt Martin’s lips against his ear.  
  
“I love you, too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Jon, just wait and see how you will like "that Blackwood person" just fine...


End file.
